Rising With The Heat
by ineedtoleavethissite
Summary: Santana can't believe she's stuck with this mousy, bespectacled little intern under the Daily Planet's new mentoring system. Especially considering a brunette bombshell named Woman Fierce is out there somewhere, just waiting for Santana to write the story of her career. {A Reporter!Santana & Superhero!Marley AU.}
1. Chapter 1

**This just kind of happened after watching Holding Out For A Hero one too many times. None of this will be serious at all.**

**I don't own shit.**

* * *

Santana's all for new blood at the office, she honestly is, but that was before it threatened to take over her whole fucking schedule. The front page isn't going to fucking fill _itself_ up. She's got shit to do.

"This is fucked up," is what she greets her boss with when she steps into his office.

"The mentor programme is an important part of the Daily Planet's network," is his cool answer.

"They're fucking _interns_," Santana grits out. "I can't waste my time like this, Finn. I've never had be a part of this fuckfest."

"That's because you've never been a senior writer before," Finn says. "Which comes with responsibilities, if you're still up for it?" It sounds like a warning, but he grins goofily, and Santana knows he's just playing with her. He nods at the door. "Marley, you're with Santana."

Santana glances at the door again, where a scrawny girl has appeared, like a fucking ghost, and Santana starts.

"Christ, have you been there the whole time?" Santana asks, and though she isn't really expecting an answer, the girl stays silent.

Abnormally so. She's taller than Santana, but one would never say that by the way she's like, _cowering_ under Santana's glare, not making eye contact. She holds a notebook up to her chest and bites her lip as she stares at the floor. Though her long hair is tied back, her face still seems obscured somehow by the thick, dark-rimmed glasses she wears.

And shit, this girl can't even _look_ at Santana, so how she's going to keep up with Santana's ins and outs at the office, God only knows.

Ugh. Shuester never should have left his favourite oaf in charge of this joint.

–

"And this is my office," Santana says, finally finishing her tour around the whole Planet.

They couldn't even assign one of the lower attendees to do that shit, and look at that, a full forty minutes of her day has just been totally fucking lost.

Forty minutes wherein this freaking Rose girl has not spoken one single word, only nodded vigorously every time Santana pointed something out to her.

Santana sighs, plopping down at her table, finally ready to get some work done.

But then she's bothered by a fucking _presence_ that feels extremely overwhelming, if only for the fact that it's _so fucking quiet_ that it's actually loud in its own way.

"Listen," Santana sighs, looking at the girl hovering by the side of her desk, "I don't mean to be rude..." Santana wants to say _yeah actually I do_ then, but one looks at the girl's hopeful face makes the snark die in her throat, so instead she says, "I've got to get this thing typed up, so can you just go hang around Fabray's office for like, an hour?"

It's not really a request, and the girl just nods again before scampering off, that peculiar mix of shy and enthused leaving Santana frowning in her wake.

Santana takes a deep breath and places her notes in order, then types a single word...

...before her phone rings.

_Christ_.

She checks the extension and realizes she can't pass this one up, 'cause like, respects are due, and that shit.

"What?" she huffs anyway.

It's like she can _hear_ Finn smiling through the phone. "Pack up and head over to 9th," he tells her.

"I was _just_ getting to this fucking article, Hudson, why don't you send one of your precious little interns?"

"Because I just got a tip that the silent alarm went off," Finn explains, and the bulb goes off in Santana's head at once.

The major corner bank. A robbery, most likely, which only means one thing.

_Woman Fierce_.

She doesn't even say goodbye before she's dropping the phone on the ground and grabbing her bag. But as soon as she exits her office she can see Finn hanging out of his doorway and looking at her from the other side of the cubicles.

"Take Rose with you," he shouts from his side of the office, and she groans before darting off in the opposite direction to go grab her goddamn mentee first.

She collides with someone around the corner, who luckily turns out to be Rose. Only Rose seems to be in quite a hurry to get somewhere herself, and Santana frowns.

"The fuck are you off to?" Santana asks.

"Uh," the girl says, eyes looking around nervously. "Nowhere?"

It's so small Santana barely catches it, and she just rolls her eyes and grabs Rose's wrist.

"Correct. We've got to run," Santana says, meaning it quite literally when she sets off toward the elevators.

As fast as she fucking can.

–

So, not like it's a secret or anything, but like.

Santana's kind of got a massive lady boner for Woman Fierce.

But, honestly, who _hasn't_? Girl's a fucking goddess – for all the world knows _literally_, as the most they are aware of so far is that the heroine is definitely an alien of some sorts, but also a guardian angel at the same time. Landed on Earth, somehow, and for some reason decided to protect that shit rather than destroy it. Luckily for them.

Not to mention, she's fine as fuck, and ripped like nobody's business.

Santana remembers the first time she saw Woman Fierce on assignment. She was frozen to the sidewalk as she watched the chick lift a garbage truck like it was a pillow.

(Her photographer at the time, Chang, had to awkwardly tell her about the thin trace of drool that stayed put on her chin after that incident.)

And now, with the possibility of not only getting a scoop on the frontline while it is in fucking progress, but also of getting to see Woman Fierce doing her thing again, well...

Rose sits fidgeting next to her in the back of the taxi, and Santana rolls her eyes. For a chick so mellow and introverted, Santana does not get the sudden impatience that seems to have overtaken her.

As if _Rose_ the one with the pressure of making or breaking the story. Or, God forbid, as if she's the one that's thrilled at the prospect of seeing their super crush in person again.

Because fuck if that isn't on the forefront of Santana's mind all the way to the bank.

–

She gets out of the taxi and slams the door, then turns to Rose to tell her to stay close, only–

Bitch has disappeared.

_Fuck sake_.

She cannot be worrying about a motherfucking intern while there are people probably running around with guns in the near vicinity. Fuck. If something happens to that kid she's going to be in so much fucking trouble, it's unreal.

Santana sighs.

In the distance, she hears a window break, and she bites her lip.

Best case scenario – chick got scared and ran as soon as they pulled up, wanting out of this deal. So, Santana thinks, she must be safe. Sorted.

Santana heads around the corner to the entrance of the bank. There's a fucking story to be written right now. She'll go find Rose later.

Though, this was maybe not such a good idea.

She really should start checking shit out before she jumps headfirst into it – but then again, that's how she's gotten most of her work done in the past, and old habits die hard.

An arm wounds around her neck and the warm barrel of a gun hits her temple – and ouch, that shit is hot, probably just been shot – and fuck, now she's lost her intern _and_ is being taken hostage.

It's just not her day, really.

The robbers are busy making their way out of the bank and toward their getaway. Santana, along with two tellers, are the only things that are keeping the police from shooting at the thieves from where they form a kind of barrier in the centre of the road.

Someone shouts over a microphone to let the hostages go, and then there's just an array of swear words being shouted in reply, and Santana rolls her eyes. Such class. She really wishes she was watching from the outside, so she could at least take note of how idiotic these men are for when she will be writing about them later on.

She should probably panic, but really, she knows any minute now–

"Now, now, boys," a voice drawls from behind them, and Santana grins. "That's not very nice."

The men spin them around, leaving their backs completely vulnerable to the police, then kind of spin around again, seemingly indecisive about whether they rather want to face the police or Woman Fierce.

No matter, because Woman Fierce realizes that her being there is putting the hostages' lives in danger, and speeds her way around the group to position herself in front of the police in the blink of an eye.

The thieves panic and Santana's hands immediately goes to her ears as the gunfire starts.

She's seen Woman Fierce being shot from far, how bullets just bounce off her like plastic, but up close?

It's _insane_.

What happens next is a blur: gun are twisted, as are two of the robbers' wrists, then Santana's stumbling out of the guy's grip and watching as Woman Fierce slides him across the pavement toward the police, and finally the other two robbers are knelt down with their backs facing Woman Fierce as she ties their wrists with the pole of a stop sign.

(Santana wonders if she's drooling again.)

–

She doesn't quite compute what's happening until a soft hand comes to rest on her shoulder.

Her eyes dart up and make contact with a stunning blue, and that's the moment she realizes that, yes, Woman Fierce is actually speaking to her.

To _her_.

"Uh," Santana gapes, eloquent as fuck.

Woman Fierce smiles at her.

At _her_.

"I said, you alright?" Woman Fierce asks.

Santana just nods quickly and finally closes her mouth. Seriously, this woman up close is like...

_Wow_.

"Really?" Woman Fierce demands, now looking somewhat amused. "Because you got shot."

"_What_?" Santana blurts, because, shit, what?

She looks down to where Woman Fierce is point and sees a line of blood on the side her bicep. A bullet has nicked some of the flesh off the side there, but luckily she doesn't like, have a _hole_ in her, so that's okay.

It's like the pain only sinks in once Santana's eyes actually make contact with it, and she hisses at the sight.

"Sh–" Santana starts, but then realizes she's still in the presence of the fucking town's hero, and for some reason she dials it back to a, "Darn."

Even though it hurts like _shit_.

When she looks back to Woman Fierce's flawless face, Santana sees she's biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

"Come on," Woman Fierce says, then like, totally steps into Santana's personal space, and Santana starts blinking rapidly.

"What?" Santana says, sure that by now, Woman Fierce must be thinking that she's totally incapable of speech. But in all fairness, Woman Fierce has placed one hand on Santana's other arm, the one that isn't not shot, and Santana has kind of stopped thinking at the touch.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital," Woman Fierce says sweetly. "You're the only one hurt, and you're kind of bleeding a lot, so, is that okay?"

Santana nods quickly but then shakes her head moments after.

"Uh," Santana starts again, then breathes out in frustration, closing her eyes and getting her words in order. "No. I mean. Uh. There's– I have an intern. Like, somewhere. I can't leave."

Santana trails off, wondering if her uselessness is still just due to Woman Fierce's attention on her or because she's like, bleeding out.

Woman Fierce looks at her strangely. "What's her name?"

"Rose," Santana says, then frowns. "Uh... Matilda. No. Marcy? Marley. Marley Rose." Santana's sure that's it. "Why?"

Woman Fierce now looks kind of unsettled. She bows her head for a second, and Santana takes the chance to look down at her arm. Fuck. That's a lot of fucking blood. Fucking Marley Rose. If Santana dies of blood loss here while looking for that chick, she's totally the first person Santana's going to haunt.

Luckily, a paramedic chooses that moment to come over to her with some gauze, and Santana sighs. So efficient. When he finishes wrapping it around Santana's arm, keeping the blood flow in check, Woman Fierce smiles at him and waves him off, as saying, _Thanks, got it from here_.

"She's okay," Woman Fierce says then, and Santana looks at her with a frown. Woman Fierce smiles slightly. She points a finger to her own ear. "I can hear her. She's okay, I promise."

Santana nods. Then Woman Fierce steps forward again, and Santana has a mild panic attack.

Before Santana knows it, Woman Fierce has scooped her up by her waist, murmuring for Santana put her arms around her shoulders, and then–

"_Shiiiiiiiiiiit_," Santana squeals as Woman Fierce takes off into the sky.

–

So. Flying is something she'd never thought she'd be ticking off her bucket list, but here she is.

Santana's arms are wrapped tightly around Woman Fierce's shoulders, head tucked into Woman Fierce's neck, shivering all fucking over. Not so much because of the wind as they soar through the air, but because, well. Jesus.

She's like, all pressed up on Woman Fierce. _The _actual, real life, legit, object of Santana's long time super infatuation. All. Pressed. Up. Against. _Her_.

If they weren't a million miles above the ground, though, Santana would probably try to be more smooth than she currently is, but whatever.

"How's your arm?" Woman Fierce asks.

Santana just nods into her neck, afraid that if she moves and speaks, she might catch sight of the ground below them, and then she'll just freak the fuck out, and that's not attractive. Honestly, it's aching like fuck, her bicep is, but like, she's pretty distracted by being so fucking close to actual goddamn clouds, and Woman Fierce's neck right by her face, which smells like lavender.

Woman Fierce must sense her hesitation, because she chuckles slightly and changes the topic, as if to take Santana's mind off the height.

"Tip; try to look where you're going next time," Woman Fierce says, and Santana feels kind of embarrassed that Woman Fierce saw her run straight into the scene of a crime like a moron. "Or maybe, where the robbers are before you go there."

It gets Santana to loosen up – or rather, go on the defensive. "Tip; lose the flowers," she counters.

That throws Woman Fierce off. She squints, and Santana feels her head move down to look at the florals covering her chest. "Really?"

Santana nods. It's incredible how cool she's being, since she knows her underboobs are probably sweating up a storm, but luckily she's had a lifetime of training in the art of acting more in control than she is.

"Well, if you're going to be carrying more people... you know. It's kind of... in the way."

Santana squirms uncomfortably, wondering if it's her own bought assets that are the problem, or the fucking bouquet tied to the woman's chest, but, well. Santana can't imagine it's very comfortable to be fighting off bad guys and busting through buildings with that shit strapped to your chest. Perhaps as comfortable as it would be when one is as well endowed as Santana – which is, not at fucking all.

Confidence part-way restored, Santana considers her options. She knows her time is limited here, and thinks that, hey, whatever – this is a rare opportunity, and what's a chance if you can't take it?

"So, what does one have to do to get an interview around here?" Santana prods.

Woman Fierce pulls back completely from her then, and Santana almost goes into cardiac arrest with nothing to ground her in the air anymore. But Woman Fierce's hold on her waist is firm and strong and Santana remembers the garbage truck for a second, and she calms down. Woman Fierce raises her one eyebrow, and the action is so fucking sexy that Santana's throat goes dry.

"I don't really care for all that," Woman Fierce says.

Santana knows this, of course. In the whole year Women Fierce has been on the scene, she's remained a mystery to both Metropolis and the world. It's not like no one has tried, just that everyone is too hella scared to probe anymore than the press has gotten in brief statements from the heroine. But Santana...

Well. There's a reason she was just caught up in a heist only minutes prior.

"How about telling me something interesting, then?" Santana pushes, wanting to get at least _something_ from this whole shebang.

"Tell _you_," Woman Fierce chuckles. "Santana Lopez, star reporter, when it'll be all over the town in seconds?"

Santana blinks.

_Woman Fierce knows her name_.

Santana blinks again.

"Uh," she starts, then shakes herself out of it. "I won't. I promise. I'm just curious."

Woman Fierce raises both her eyebrows this time, but does so with small smile.

"Okay," she relents, and Santana's hope picks up. "I'll tell you something about me no one knows, but if I hear any word of it across town, I'll know you broke your promise. And remember," Woman Fierce taps her ear again with a finger on one hand, other hand still holding Santana tightly without effort, "I'll really hear it."

Santana scrunches up her nose. "Like a test?"

Woman Fierce shrugs. "Maybe."

Santana can't believe her luck right now.

Without warning, they start descending at quite a rapid speed, and Santana squeals again, leaping forward and holding on to Woman Fierce's neck again, ignoring the pain that rips through her arm when she does so.

Woman Fierce chuckles a bit, and Santana doesn't even have the gall to say anything bitchy in return.

"My mom made this suit," Woman Fierce whispers in her ear. "It's why I've never axed the flowers."

And before Santana can react, she feels her feet being placed gently on the ground, barely getting a smile from Woman Fierce before she flies off again. Then Santana is being surrounded by nearby attendees, but really.

She keeps her eyes on the empty sky all the way until she's dragged through the hospital doors.

–

When Santana returns to the office the next day, arm in a sling, it's just in time to be ushered to the boardroom for a content meeting with the rest of the crew.

She's lauded as some kind of hero, but really. Woman Fierce is the hero there, and Santana just got grazed, so. She just waves everyone off and takes a seat where her little intern is like, pulling a chair out for her to sit on, or something. Like, Santana's not mangled, she still has one good working arm, Christ sake.

Although, she'll have to suck her pride up later and ask for help, 'cause she can't type like this. At least this mentor programme has _one_ advantage for her at the moment.

"I trust you'll be covering the robbery for us this morning, Santana?" Hudson asks to open the meeting, intending to be hilarious, but he's always struggled with the comedy, and just gets halfhearted laughs from around the table. Santana just rolls her eyes and says nothing.

The meeting goes by fast, and Santana doesn't know if it's her pain meds or what, but before she knows it, people are packing up their things. Then she says, "Wait."

Most of the room slows down and Hudson looks at her expectantly, and so does everyone else and their interns. Quinn has already stood up, but now she's frowning, pausing behind her chair. Quinn's mentee – more like clone – hovers behind Quinn, looking at her like a little puppy waiting for a command, and Santana would snort if she wasn't so focused on making her plea.

"I have an idea," Santana says. "I know our features have been our worst sellers lately and we've steered clear, but... Two words. Woman Fierce."

The whole team shifts slightly and though Santana knows everyone is too scared of her to object, there's only one small groan heard. She throws Rachel Berry, Broadway reviewer, a dirty look at the sound, and then continues.

"I know it's been worn out and she's basically our headline every damn day, but just..." Santana shrugs. She doesn't want to say too much, mindful of the super ears somewhere out there in the city. "I have an idea," she repeats lamely.

Hudson seems to consider it, and Santana just focuses on him, because she knows he trusts her to get shit done. She also knows she only needs a simple go ahead so spend most of her time on uncovering more than the source of a costume.

(A _mom_. Woman Fierce has a mom. That's something wholly new, and totally fucking worth chasing. But Santana won't tell anyone else about that shit, obviously.)

After a second or two, Hudson shrugs, then looks at her pointedly. "You have an intern now to pick up any slack caused by you chasing this story, so. Sure."

Santana grins for the first time that morning.

–

Quinn meets Santana outside and they walk to their offices together, their two interns creepily trailing behind them as they go.

"How's the arm?" Quinn asks her.

"Peachy," Santana answers, because, in hindsight – totally fucking worth it.

Quinn looks at her strangely, and Santana wonders what expression appeared on her face when she said that.

"So, Woman Fierce?" Quinn raises an eyebrow, and Santana rolls her eyes.

Santana shrugs, playing it cool. "I may have an angle."

"Right, 'cause that's not been done to death already," Quinn says.

"I think it's a great idea," the tiny blonde behind them speaks up, desperate to kiss ass.

Santana turns to look behind her, seeing the wide smile on the blonde's face and Rose meekly walking next to her.

Quinn snorts. "Just an excuse for Santana to exercise her passions."

"Which is?" the midget asks curiously, ecstatic to be included.

"Her strange fascination with Woman Fierce," Quinn supplies, looking at Santana with a sly grin. "Santana's worst kept secret."

"What do you mean, a _secret_?" Santana rolls her eyes. She's not ashamed. And it's not like it's not common knowledge, so. "Woman Fierce can _get it_. End of."

She turns around and motions for her Rose to follow her to her office. But when she does, she sees that her intern is fucking bright red all the way from her neck to her hairline.

Santana rolls her eyes once more. This Rose chick _screams_ midwest, small town ignorance. If she's going to be thrown off so easily just by Santana's attraction to another woman, she's really not going to last in this city.

Rose looks at her weirdly when Santana sits down at the other side of her own desk, and Santana gestures for her to sit in front of the computer. She does, looking beyond elated at the opportunity to actually _do_ something, and Santana just sighs.

"You know how to type, Rose?" Santana questions, and the girl just nods vigorously in reply, staring at Santana with bright eyes behind those large glasses, face still flushed as fuck.

Santana sighs again. It's going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry if I happen to butcher some of the work procedures used in the newspaper world. I've only worked at magazines and have no knowledge of how the two processes differ!**

**PS. The immensely intelligent Michellelancelot on Tumblr made a fucking cool Woman Fierce edit, so go check that out on her page if you want to bask in pure awesomeness.**

* * *

The mild break hasn't been as bad as she expected. It's been shitty, yes, but there is actually one part of it all that has kept her from grinding her teeth down to her gums.

Here's the story behind the sling – the bullet went through some sensitive sinew and thus moving her arm even a fraction is like pricking her with a thousand needles in one spot. With her left hand now permanently draped over her stomach and her right being about as useful as having a lemon at the end of her arm, there are few things around the office that she can actually manage by herself.

Which is where her new intern comes in. See: thing that's keeping her from drowning, currently.

(She'll never, ever admit to Hudson that this ridiculous system of his might have some merit. After all, if she hadn't gotten scraped by that bullet, this shadow at her side would still be irritating as fuck.)

It's been a week of Rose sitting behind Santana's desk and typing out everything Santana's catching up with or is assigned with. It's a whole new way of writing that Santana's had to get used to. She feels like a lady in Victorian times, sitting on some sofa while some assistant labours over a typewriter. Though, she could do with a bourbon to complete the image, if she's being quite honest.

But then, this method comes with other quandaries. Surprising, confusing, and totally fucking unnecessary fucking quandaries.

Since Santana has nothing to focus on but the mostly blank walls of her office around her, she's found her gaze more often than not landing on the only moving thing in her immediate surroundings – her little apprentice sitting typing away on her keyboard.

It's quite a delayed observation, what with her annoyance at this mentor thing being at the forefront of her mind for the past few days, but Rose is actually a darn attractive young girl.

And by _darn_, Santana obviously means _hella fucking_.

It's not professional, really, staring at your university-aged fucking helper like that, so more times than Santana can count, she's forced herself to tear her eyes away and look out beyond her doorway instead. She usually only spots some workers scurrying along the passageways of the Planet, but then Santana's irritated and distracted by them again, and her eyes are pulled back to the person sitting behind her computer.

But really.

Santana can't help it that when she's spouting her headline-grabbing stories, caught up in the sentences she's weaving, that she suddenly realises that she's been staring, subconsciously, at the way Rose's lips move faintly to repeat Santana's words as she's getting it down on the computer.

It's fucking distracting, is what it is.

And besides, there are other, way more pressing things she's _supposed_ to be distracted by right now.

Woman Fierce has a mom.

A _mom_.

Santana's mind has been whirring with the possibilities. There are only so many leads one can have with a vague clue like that, though, and she knows the simple idea of a mother isn't going to take her far, but fuck if it doesn't prickle Santana's curiousity like a motherfucker. Is this a super mother? Someone that came to this planet with Woman Fierce? Then why aren't there two caped heroes flying around town? Or is it a human mother? Which – how would that even happen? And how does that work?

Santana can't make sense of it, and it's not getting her any closer to figuring Woman Fierce out – which is probably why Woman Fierce entrusted her with that piece of information to begin with, come to think of it.

But, well.

It's _something_.

–

"Santana?"

Santana straightens in her seat. Her eyes flick up from where they were staring at... well, okay, that was probably just by accident, but like, Santana's still bored, and Rose is actually wearing a v-neck for once in her life, and they're _right_ _there_, so.

Anyway, when she finally meets Rose's eyes, she sees the intern frown a bit and subconsciously tug on her glasses, already starting to blush.

Great. Girl's already wary of Santana's lady-affections, and now she probably thinks Santana to be some major perve at that, too. Fucking A.

"Sorry," Rose apologizes, and Santana just sighs. This chick really needs to toughen up. "It's just... We're finished. I think."

"Read that last part back to me," Santana orders then, tilting her head back and closing her eyes so as to avoid any further... _hindrances_.

She focuses on the words as Rose throws them back at her, and well, that'll do, she guesses.

"Wow," Rose breathes out when she's done, like she's also just hearing the words for the first time. "That works so well."

"Duh," Santana says, getting up and stretching, needing a break from being locked in a room with this girl all of a sudden. "Take a knee, Rose. In fact, why don't you just go home for the day, yeah? Don't you have like, exams or something?"

"It's two in the afternoon, Santana," Rose notes, but it sounds more of a question than anything. "And I've graduated."

"I'm your boss, so," Santana shrugs. "Go relax for a change."

Rose frowns on the entire route out of Santana's office, and Santana only really breathes properly once she's left.

–

Santana's never quite regretted her minor disability as much as in the next day. They're nearing a row of apartment blocks that are ablaze and Santana's being jostled by a sea of onlookers while trying to shimmy her way to the front of the crowd.

Sometimes, Santana's handed a photographer – if she's not out of the office before Finn can slap that shit to her side – and today she had to be so lucky to be dealt with her ex-girlfriend.

It doesn't bother her too much, to be honest. She reconciled with Brittany long ago and they've managed to survive as friends – though, dating one of her co-workers was just not the best decision Santana's ever made. Thus, her efforts to be professional as fuck around her newest fellow employee.

(Not that _dating_ factors in her thoughts so much when confronted with the narrow-minded young apprentice, but more just raking in her leering, for a start.)

Speaking of, Santana looks back from where Brittany's trying to elbow a space open for Santana so her hurt arm doesn't connect with too many people while moving ahead, wanting to ask her intern if she's still alright, but when she does–

Jesus. H. Christ.

Not a-fucking-gain.

"Fucking hell," Santana mutters.

"What is it?" Brittany asks.

"Damn intern vanished again," Santana hisses, and when she looks back to Brittany, she sees that they've finally reached the front lines.

Good thing, too, as her arm's aching like a cunt now. She could really do with her medicine right now, and groans quietly when she realises she left that shit back at the office.

But then Santana takes in the scene around them, which is pure chaos. She gets a glance at someone sitting in a nearby ambulance with soot covering their face, choking up a storm, and suddenly her arm feels like it's healed, in comparison.

Santana jots down some first impressions on her notebook while Brittany snaps away at the smoke rising from the top windows of the building.

"Probably just got lost in the crowd," Brittany says, and Santana frowns. "Marley," Brittany reminds her. "We'll get her later."

Oh. Right. Santana already forgot about that shit, to be honest. She's too busy taking in the details around her, and waiting with a baited breath for something else she knows is coming soon.

And there she is.

Santana stands in awe as Woman Fierce moves in and out of the building so fast that Santana's eyes barely catch the motions, bringing person after person to safety, only slowing down when placing them on the ground securely. Santana's captivated by the brief glances – the determination on Women Fierce's face, the strong and deft movements of her body, even her fucking hair whipping in the wind, and just...

She hears a chuckle from next to her and throws Brittany a dirty look.

"Take your goddamn pictures," Santana barks, and Brittany just keeps on laughing while she follows the command.

A few minutes and it's over. Everyone's safe and the fire's out, and Woman Fierce stops by the emergency services for a brief moment to see if there are any severe cases that need to be taken to the hospital as soon as possible. Looks like there isn't, and Santana watches as she smiles politely when the firefighters approach her appreciatively, and then she's making her way away from the trucks and Santana holds her breath. Woman Fierce simply strides by before darting into the sky, not stopping to say hello.

Not that Santana really expected her to, because like, Santana's not delusional or anything. There are millions of Woman Fierce fangirls and fanboys out there, and she knows she isn't anything special just because of one chance encounter.

But.

There was definitely a smile and a nod thrown in Santana's direction a split second before Woman Fierce flew away, she's sure.

Santana will go to her grave believing that shit.

–

Later, after Santana thankfully stumbled into her intern while making her way back through the crowd, the three of them are bowed over pictures in the conference room. Brittany's picked out the photos she deemed publishable, and now it's just down to getting the perfect ones to fit the article.

It's just the two of them and Rose left at the office. The fire alert came right at the end of the workday, and by the time they got back to the office, it was dark already and most of the staff had gone. They need to get the article down tonight so the designers can have ready it at the break of dawn for the morning press.

Santana moves another picture of the apartment away to find a dazzling shot of Woman Fierce descending from the building, the light hitting her in a way that makes Santana's knees weak. Santana must stare at it for longer than she means to, because–

"You're hopeless," Brittany jokes, and Santana bumps her with her hip.

"Go home," Santana says.

Brittany just chuckles and focuses on the pictures again.

"Seriously, Britt," Santana adds. "Get out of here. You've been working late every night this week. We got it."

Santana knows when Brittany's relieved, and this is one of those moments. Brittany looks from her to Rose, who nods also, and then Brittany's exhaling and greeting them, trying not to seem too excited when she darts off to get home.

Santana scoops up some of the pictures with her one hand and gestures for Rose to bring the rest into their office. Rose is doing that blushing thing again, and seriously, what is with this kid?

They take up what has become their usual spots by now, and Santana checks out the pictures held in her good hand, thankful for something else to look at for a change while she writes this one up.

Santana settles in her chair, then starts recounting the events of the day as Rose jots it all down.

–

When they finally finish, Santana knows it's one of those night where she's just going to head home and fall straight in her bed. She's exhausted in the way she likes to be – from a busy day doing what she loves the most at the best job she could possibly have.

Outside, Santana bids Rose goodnight and makes her way down the block. She loves living close enough to her work to walk, but she's never letting Hudson know that for fear of him taking advantage of that shit and having her come into the office at his every beckoning.

Just before she rounds the corner, she hear fast feet behind her, and fuck, her pepper spray is totally in her bag, but the fucking fingers of her right hand are having a hard time getting into the small pocket at the side of her purse to retrieve the can.

The feet are closer, and Santana's fucking struggling with a zipper, and if she dies tonight because some idiotic asshole decided to shoot her in some stupid heist gone wrong a week ago, she is going to be so fucking pissed off, she swears to–

"Santana?"

Santana jumps at the voice that's suddenly next to her, and fuck, Rose just has a knack for disappearing a reappearing at the worst possible times.

"Dammit, chica, you're going to send me to the grave like that," Santana says, giving up on fiddling with the zipper.

When she finally looks up at Rose, she sees a hint of mischief hidden behind those glasses, and wow, who knew this girl could actually lighten up every now and then?

"Sorry," Rose says, apparently apologizing for getting such a kick out of seeing Santana so dismantled. "Your heart's beating crazy fast."

Santana wanted to yell at Rose before, but those words throw her off, then.

"I mean," Rose stutters, "you're breathing really fast. Sorry for frightening you."

Santana rolls her eyes. That was not funny in any way. She focuses on why she just got the living daylights scared out of her seconds prior.

"Did you forget something?" Santana says, narrowing her eyes, trying to gain control again.

Rose blinks. "Are you walking home?"

Santana sighs. She's been so good at avoiding this shit in her time at the Planet. "Tell anyone I live nearby and you're dead meat."

For some reason, this amuses the shit out of Rose. But then she turns serious again. Well, at least there was some lightness there, even short-lived.

"This way?" she asks, gesturing down the corner Santana was just about to turn, and Santana frowns.

"What's it to you?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright, with the arm and everything," Rose says quietly, now completely turning back into that reserved girl Santana has come to know. She glances at the streets around them. "I'm going to take the bus, anyway. It's pretty late, and, you know. You're a woman, walking alone, so."

Santana scoffs, gesturing at Rose. "Yeah, and those little arms are going to help scare the muggers away. Sure."

Rose frowns, looking like a kicked puppy, and shit, Santana's body should not be reacting this way to the sight.

"Fine," Santana says after a beat. "Yeah, it's this way."

They walk in silence for a whole minute before Santana breaks. She's not one for small talk, really, but it occurs to her then, for some reason, that she really doesn't know all that much about this person who's been sharing her air for the better part of the past fortnight.

And well, it's not like Santana cares, obviously, but she _is_ a reporter, first and foremost, and sometimes her curiosity simply takes over.

"So, you want to be a writer?" Santana starts, and Rose jumps a bit next to her. Santana bites back a grin. Score one for karma.

Rose nods. "I think."

"You just _think_?" Santana says. "Pretty mild for someone spending their time at the biggest media company in the city."

Rose flushes. "I didn't mean... I'm totally serious about that, it's not–"

"Relax," Santana says, rolling her eyes at this girl once more. "I'm just fucking with you."

"Oh," Rose says. God, she needs to chill the fuck out, sometimes. Where is that joker that just accosted Santana minutes ago? Santana would like to see more of that version of her, if she's being honest. "Well, I... This is stupid, but I wanted to be a singer, actually."

Few things usually surprise the fuck out of Santana, and that's one of them. She doesn't say anything, because what the fuck should she, and then just waits for Rose to elaborate.

"But then I started thinking about all the what ifs – not what if it bombs, but what if I make it," Rose admits. "I don't really like all that attention."

Rose brings her hand up and fiddles with the edges of her glasses, then draws even further into herself, if that's even possible.

"I..." Rose goes on again, "I don't know. I... Uhm. I've seen what it's like, when... For people. I just– It would suck if there wasn't an off switch. Well, I guess it would, anyway."

Santana nods. That makes sense. "So, how'd that lead you all the way to the Planet?"

"Songwriting," Rose answers immediately. "I used to write songs in high school and liked that a lot. I studied writing further, and well, one thing led to another..."

Santana nods. "And you like it? Articles?"

"It's different, but I really do, so far," Rose says. She bites her lip, then adds, "Watching you; the top of the field at the top of their game, it's... Well. It's pretty darn fascinating, to say the least."

Santana's been complimented a lot in her life, but for some reason, this one renders her totally fucking speechless. She gulps, and is thankful for her apartment that makes an appearance right at that moment.

She dodges the remark by pointing to the building.

"This one's mine," is all she replies with. "There's a bus stop just around the next corner. Or you can use the one we just passed at the last."

Rose nods, smiling brightly. "Have a good evening," she says politely.

Santana just nods in return, before escaping up the steps to her place.

So, her mentee is now attractive, _and_ interesting.

Fuck sake.

–

"Right," Santana addresses Finn as she strolls into his office the next day. "How long's this mentor thing going to last, then?"

As per usual, Finn grins at her stupidly before saying, "It's a three month programme, Santana."

Santana raises her eyebrow.

"And," Finn continues, "it's only been two weeks."

Santana raises her other eyebrow.

"Do the math," Finn concludes.

Santana slams his door extra hard on the way out.

–

The cool thing about being a senior writer is that a lot of the time, Santana can just flounce about chasing leads without anyone questioning her whereabouts.

So, at times like these when she just wants to punch a wall, she totally takes advantage of her privileges and escapes to the rooftop for a well-deserved cigar break.

But then it occurs to her that she can just as well get some work done while she's here, actually.

Her idea is extraordinarily crazy, but Santana's never been overly rational when it comes to her work ethic, so.

"Uhm," Santana starts. She feels beyond silly talking to nothing like this. "Hi. I... Can you, like, _hear_ me? Uhm. If you can... Well. I'm on the Daily Planet's roof."

Santana frowns. When nothing happens, she just feels even sillier. Who does she think she is, just _summoning_ a fucking superhero?

"Or, you're probably busy saving shi– _Things_. Saving people, and like... Being a hero." Santana closes her eyes in frustration. She can't even keep her cool when just _thinking_ of the woman. "Uhm. Anyway. I can't leave a voicemail, now can I?" Santana chuckles to herself, even though she's mortified at her own lameness. "Okay. Well. Uhm, goodbye."

Santana's blows out a final billow of smoke, then stubs out the cigar on the balustrade.

She almost falls off the building when a voice speaks up out of nowhere.

"Those things will kill you, you know."

"Goddammit," Santana says, holding her free hand over her heart. She takes a few steadying breaths, before finding some composure and looking at Woman Fierce hovering in midair behind her. "Is it like, your _thing_ to talk in terrible 80s lines or something?"

Woman Fierce lowers herself to the ground fully, looking at Santana questioningly.

"_Now, now, boys_," Santana mimics. "And _smoking__ will kill you_. All that. Awfully contrived."

Santana thinks that maybe insulting someone that resembles steel wasn't such a good move, but she can't help that she's so used to jumping to the offensive when she's caught off guard like that. But Woman Fierce just smiles and shrugs, and Santana is quietly relieved at that.

"You rang?" Woman Fierce says, smile turning sly, because, fuck, there she does it again. And it's totally intentional too, which is like – Santana suddenly realises she loves the fact that Woman Fierce has a playful side.

"Right," Santana says. She didn't actually bet on Woman Fierce _legit_ showing up, but okay. This is happening. "So, a mom, huh?"

Woman Fierce crosses her arms, but her smile doesn't falter, and Santana wonders what her deal is.

"I see you've kept your promise," Woman Fierce says.

"Of course," Santana says. "Does that mean you'll do the interview?"

"Whoa," Woman Fierce says, holding a hand up while stepping closer to Santana. "Interview?"

"I want to write about you," Santana says, as if that fact wasn't already obvious.

Woman Fierce uncrosses her arms. For a moment, she looks uncomfortable, and the sight looks oddly familiar to Santana, for some reason, until she squares her shoulders again. "I told you I'm not really into that," Woman Fierce says coolly.

"But I thought–"

"You're nice, Santana," Woman Fierce says, and Santana almost faints at her name coming out of Woman Fierce's mouth again. Woman Fierce steps even closer to her then, talking softly and sincerely. "It's just that I'm not all that keen on the spotlight."

Santana briefly questions if seeing Woman Fierce up close so often lately is good for her health – and restraint – because, honestly...

Fuck, this woman is _gorgeous_.

Santana wonders if it'd be risking her life to plant one on Woman Fierce right fucking now. Woman Fierce has never been tied to anyone – not even in a platonic sense, never mind romantic – and well, she's a fucking _alien_, which has resulted in Santana spending much time pondering how that fact affects Woman Fierce's sexuality.

"Santana?" comes Woman Fierce's voice, and Santana snaps out of it.

"Yeah, I know," Santana says, trying not to sound too dejected.

"It gets lonely, sometimes," Woman Fierce admits. "Being me. You just seemed interesting. But if all you wanted was a scoop, I'm sorry, it's–"

"No, no," Santana says. "I get it. So, it's just you and your mom, then?"

Woman Fierce nods. "Yeah, it's always been us."

"Your mom," Santana repeats. "Who comes from...?"

It's a lame attempt, and Woman Fierce sees right through her, she knows.

"Sorry," Santana says sheepishly. "Habit."

Woman Fierce smiles anyway, but then she stares off in the distance for a second, and Santana frowns.

"We've got to go," Woman Fierce announces. "You've got to go. Your boss is looking for you."

Santana sighs. "That really comes in handy, doesn't it?" she asks, pointing to her own ear.

Woman Fierce chuckles. "You have no idea."

Santana chuckles too, and then Woman Fierce lifts herself into the air, waving slightly as she does so.

"See you around," Woman Fierce says, and then she's off, and Santana's left reeling, as always.

Like, that shit actually just happened.

She wonders if Woman Fierce is just as curious as she is, coming to see what Santana wanted like that, and then her mind spins at the possibilities of what else they might have in common.

–

By the end of the week, she's finally relieved from her sling, and can move her arm without feeling like someone is repeatedly stabbing her when she does so.

It's glorious, having her own fucking limb back for a change.

She's still heavily reliant on her pain pills, but at least she's more mobile, and that's something to celebrate. Thankfully, this is just in time for the weekend.

(At times, she still wonders if the rooftop meeting earlier this week really happened, or if it was just her medication making her see shit. Though, she reasons, if it was a vision of her own volition, there would probably have been some more making out parts packed in it, so.)

When she gets to work, she's high fived by most of the staff, though she only puts the effort in with her injured hand to the members she likes the most – which is like, three of them.

Reaching her office, she sees Rose waiting for her with her coffee ready, papers organized and prepped for the day. She's taken to doing this for Santana lately, and, well. At the very least, Santana's starting to get used to this shadowing thing.

She walks over to her chair and just as she reaches for her coffee, Rose speaks up.

"Uh, Santana?" Santana looks up at Rose biting her lip and glancing down to where her sling is missing, then Santana realises she's still on the other side of her desk. "Sorry," Rose amends, thinking she's spoken out of turn. "I can totally still type for you! I just assumed, you know, that you'd want your workstation back. But sit, sorry, I can really–"

Santana actually chuckles a bit at how flustered Rose seems suddenly.

"Chill out, Rose," Santana says, waving a hand, then making her way over to her actual chair. "It's just become too routine, I think. Forgot for a moment."

Rose smiles, relieved, and then moves to the other side of the desk in turn.

"What would you have me do?" Rose asks.

Santana sits down and brings her coffee closer. She gestures to a folder on the other side of her desk with her left hand – and fuck, it feels so good to finally be able to use that bitch again, even for the little things.

"There's a whole pile of pieces waiting to be proofread," Santana says. "You'd be helping me a ton if you took them off my hands."

Rose nods and reaches for them immediately, taking a seat opposite Santana.

Santana pulls her notes closer and logs into her computer. It feels somehow strange, to be working this way once more, but it's also nice to have this level of control back.

Ten minutes in, though, her thoughts trail off, and when she finally focuses, she realizes she's staring at Rose again.

Christ. She shakes out of it, taking a long sip of her coffee – which is made to perfection, but she won't give Rose the satisfaction of admitting that out loud – and putting her mind back on her article.

Not long after, she once again finds her vision zeroing in on black rims and the blue eyes behind them, and motherfucking ballsacks.

Santana takes a breath and puts her head in her hands. She really has to snap out of this shit.

But, it's not her fault, really.

She's had such a great view lately, and well, now she has to spend most of her time staring at boring words on a screen instead.

And for all the delight Santana has been feeling about the newfound freedom of once again using her dominant hand, for some reason, the idea of having to wear that sling again now seems considerably more appealing than before.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana has finally been able to get some work done. By now, she's sure she's acclimatised to Rose's presence, and has become partially unaffected by the girl being in her immediate view most of the time.

Perhaps, Santana thinks, the novelty of it all has worn off.

So, for once, the next time she's distracted, it's not because of her irrational... _fascination_, for lack of a better word, with her intern.

Instead, it's her intern addressing her – which much be the fucking first time since they started this shit that Rose has been the one to speak up first in Santana's presence.

"Why?"

"Huh?" Santana says, jerking her head up and focusing on Rose, who's sitting with an old clipping of the Planet in her lap.

Santana recognizes it instantly – it was one of her first pieces that ever made it to the front page. It was also the very first article she ever wrote on Woman Fierce.

Without looking away from the paper, Rose says, "Why are you so... Uhm. You know? About her."

Santana barely refrains from rolling her eyes. If it weren't for her seeing the softer side of Rose already, she'd probably use the homophobia being thrown her way to further protest this mentor shit at Finn.

Santana shrugs. "Not really your business," she says calmly.

Rose looks down, reverting back to that turtle of a person she can be sometimes, and Santana sighs.

"Jesus, you have eyes, don't you?" Santana amends, but keeps her tone biting so Rose doesn't think she's special for getting an answer after all or some shit. "Chick's super fucking hot, so what?"

Rose frowns as she looks up at Santana. "And that's it? You just like the way she looks?"

Of course not, Santana thinks, but fuck it all, she doesn't really owe this girl shit. So, she just murmurs, "Duh."

When she looks up, moments after when she's sure she won't be under scrutiny anymore, she sees Rose looking somehow disappointed, and it's everything she can do not to groan out loud.

–

Santana sighs when she comes back from a meeting with Quinn to find a briefing folder on her desk and Rose nowhere in sight.

Rose has the tendency to just fucking disappear into thin air at times. According to Rose, it's due to the most frequent bathroom breaks Santana's ever seen anyone take in her life, but oh well. Santana's not one to care about or concern herself with the personal ins and outs of other people's daily lives, so.

Santana sighs even harder when her eyes skip over the letters on the first page. It's a simple follow up, but she's so tired of covering this fucking topic that she's just about ready to set the whole folder on fire.

As if on queue, Rose chooses that moment to step into Santana's office.

"Sorry," Rose exhales, and if Santana didn't know better, she'd think Rose sounded breathless. "Was–"

"Yeah, I know," Santana waves her off. "Bathroom or some shit. Take a look at this."

Santana pushes the page in Rose's hands before walking around to sit on her chair. Rose looks down at the page questioningly, face all frowny, which is... Well, it's not awful to look at, so Santana breathes out deeply and averts her eyes before explaining.

"It's a simple follow up and I'm too sick of that shit to write it – never mind swamped with this article right now – so I want you to get it down for me, yeah?"

Rose's jaw almost drops, and Santana can't help but grin at the sight. When Rose picks up on Santana's amusement, she flushes a bit and closes her mouth, then gulps slightly.

"You want me to write it?" Rose checks, and Santana just nods. "Something for the paper? Something that will be published in the actual paper?"

Santana bites her lip to cut off her growing smile. Excitement from a fucking intern shouldn't be this fucking amusing and alluring all at once.

"It's a small piece, stuck right next to a zillion ads, if anything, but yes," Santana affirms.

Rose nods vigorously, though there's a certain uncertainty and fright lingering underneath it, and God. Some part of Santana thinks that it's been a while since she encountered someone so fucking _real _in this city.

To shake herself out of more stupid thoughts, Santana explains, "We did a piece that implicated members of a rather dangerous drug ring, and some witness read something in the story that jogged her memory and she called in, gave the cops a tip that led them straight to the felons."

Rose frowns and shuffles through the folder. "It looked like the Planet got under fire for it?"

Santana shrugs. "The ring needed someone to blame, which is like, how fucking stupid can you get? We just let the public know, if they're caught up in shit it's their own problem if it gets uncovered, you know?"

Rose nods. "So, just a summary of that then, adding some of the details that's in here to refresh the readers' minds?" she asks, holding up the folder.

Santana grins. She's so fucking glad her intern is past the baby-ing phase already.

"Smart girl," Santana says, then goes back to her work.

–

For the next week, the interns as a group all go down to design and spend time learning the nuts and bolts of that department.

The office feels strangely empty without everyone's little shadows scurrying around after them or running off to do errands around the cubicles.

Santana's office feels even emptier.

–

"Hey," Santana hears one afternoon when she's making her way home.

She looks back down the street to see Rose jogging to reach her, and Santana raises her eyebrow. It's Friday and Santana hasn't seen her all week, and so... Well. The sight isn't wholly _unwelcome_, per se.

"How've you been?" Rose says once she catches up with Santana, and Santana just nods, because she's not into small talk.

"Find anything interesting down in the basement?" Santana counters instead.

Rose chuckles slightly at that. "It was really interesting, actually!" she says animatedly, and fuck, there that grin goes infiltrating Santana's face once again without her fucking permission.

Rose then goes on to regale Santana with tales from the designing department all the way to her apartment, and the weird thing is, Santana doesn't roll her eyes once. She even actively _listens_ to all the girl's stories, and if that isn't the strangest fucking thing to happen to Santana in a long time, she doesn't know what is.

In fact, she's so riveted by every single detail that Rose tells her, for some inane reason, that when Rose stops and clears her throat, Santana looks at her confusedly for a second. Then she looks to her left and sees they've reached her apartment already.

It's strange to see Rose actually becoming more comfortable around her to not be such a sad sack all the time, Santana reckons. That's the only thing that's been taking her by surprise, what's been making Santana hang off every single word she just spoke.

"Anyway," Rose says, as if just now realising that she's been talking all the way, too. "I missed you."

Santana blinks.

"Uhm," Rose says, fidgeting for a second before returning to her previous cheery disposition. "I'll see you on Monday, then."

Before Santana can react, Rose is off, and Santana just turns around and stumbles up her steps, beyond thankful for the weekend ahead.

–

Santana finishes with the last sentence of Rose's piece, and well, fuck, she's impressed, which is rare.

It's not a fucking masterpiece, hardly two paragraphs long and more of a summary than anything else, but somehow Rose just made it more compelling than just that. Quite a wordsmith, Santana thinks, guessing that it's the short format just worked so well for someone who transitioned from short lyrics to longer works. A simple fucking follow up, and somehow, with the way she weaved her words, Rose made it seem halfway fucking _poetic._

"No problem," Santana downplays, but even that has Rose sitting up straighter in her chair with happiness. "It'll work just fine."

Rose's grin is so wide Santana thinks it's going to break through her office walls. She nods and then shuffles out of her chair, muttering something about going to help Wilde with some copying work.

Santana sighs as she watches Rose walking out of her office, content even with Santana's casual disregard for her work, and Santana feels bad instantly, because, well. She'd always thought that there was a thing about giving credit where it's due, so.

"Rose," she calls out just before Rose escapes. Rose stops in the doorway and looks back to where Santana's sitting. Santana keeps her face straight as she simply states, "You did good."

Rose beams so spectacularly that the image stays on in Santana's mind long after she gets home after Rose once again walked her home later that day.

–

Santana's taking a break from work. To be specific, she's drinking another perfectly made cup of coffee while listening to Rose tell her some inane story about her high school glee club. Santana's utterly entertained, totally distracted from her job.

She laughs over her cup as she takes in Rose's crinkling eyes and the way she seems to buzz in her seat with energy, moving around in her chair as she tells her latest crazy story. It's quite a sight, and Santana would gladly trade the rather interesting article she's currently writing to watch and listen to more of these hilarious little tales. Rose turns out to be quite a delightful storyteller.

But then, out of nowhere, Rose's joking demeanour disappears and her brow furrows, and Santana is stumped at the mood change. This is followed but Rose jumping up suddenly, and Santana would be totally thrown if this hadn't happened one or two times before.

"Uhm," Rose stutters, tripping over herself as she quickly makes her way over to the door of Santana's office. "Uhm. Bathroom break. I'll, uh, I'll be right back. Uhm. Bye."

Santana just watches in total fucking awe as Rose makes to rush out the office, but then bumps into Brittany on her way.

"Sorry," Rose mutters, but Brittany pays it no mind. She addresses both Santana and Rose, and Santana glances down to see Brittany's camera hanging around her neck.

"Grab your jackets," Brittany says. "Some bad stuff going down at the park, and you know what that means."

Of course Santana does, and she doesn't need Brittany's wiggling eyebrows to tell her that.

She hears a chuckle coming from Rose and Santana looks over just in time to see Rose trying to play poker face, but failing horribly while looking at Brittany's suggestive eyebrow moves. Santana rolls her eyes, sometimes hating the fact that her obvious crush is steadily turning into an office joke.

"Don't you start, too," Santana huffs at Rose.

"It's endearing," Rose says quietly, but then that strange look overtakes her face again, and she rushes past Brittany. "Uhm. I... I got to– I'll meet you at the park!" she calls behind her as she goes.

Brittany looks at Santana questioningly and Santana just shakes her head silently, not having any answers either. Instead, she just gets up and grabs her notebook and recorder.

When Santana's following Brittany out of the office, she looks back to the corridor Rose rushed down just moments earlier, shaking her head.

Seriously, Rose's bladder is fucking whack. Girl needs to get that shit checked by a fucking doctor.

–

So, it's become kind of routine that Rose walks with Santana to her apartment after work every day.

They talk about everything and nothing, and it hasn't stopped surprising Santana how not-irritated she is with it all. She wonders about where Rose lives, how much of a detour she takes by walking with Santana, and why Rose just willingly opts for a later bus in order to make these short little trips, without any specific reason behind them.

It's weird, Santana thinks. It's kind of like, in the two months they've been forced to spend time together, something odd has occurred.

It's like they've almost become, dare she say it, _friends_.

But tonight, something else entirely happens, too.

They're saying goodbye when, out of left field, Rose just leans over and hugs Santana in greeting.

Santana freezes completely, surprised, and barely gets a smell of some floral scent that radiates off Rose. It's somewhat familiar, but before she can pin it, Rose has pulled back, hesitant.

Rose looks surprised herself, like she didn't mean to do that at all, like it just happened as a reflex, then flushes bright pink.

"Uhm," Rose says quietly. "Yeah, okay. Goodnight."

"Night," Santana mutters, then watches as Rose kind of squares her shoulders and walks away with new resolve. It breaks the tension, for some reason amusing the heck out of Santana.

Santana looks at her retreating back all the way down the block, and when Rose disappears, Santana turns to go inside, chuckling to herself.

That kid's a riot, really.

–

It's late in the day, and Santana's working on her latest Women Fierce piece.

There was an accident earlier and she got to the scene just in time to see Woman fierce extract a young boy from a car moments before it burst into flames, before putting out the fire herself, and just...

It was all kinds of wonderful.

Santana can't understand how someone so powerful can seem so gentle when she's handling people, yet so firm when she's addressing bad guys or threatening forces like fire, and then so light on her feet when she's rushing around to fix everyone's problems at lightning speed. It's just a marvel.

She feels a presence at her side, then looks to her left to see Rose sidled up next to her, smiling at Santana before her eyes move down. There are multiple photos of Woman Fierce scattered over her desk, and Santana's half-picking one out for her article, half-staring at their contents just because.

For once, Rose doesn't look horrified – or whatever it is that she usually feels – to see Santana admiring Woman Fierce. Instead, that look of curiosity coats her features again, the same one from some time ago when she enquired about the root of Santana's fascination. It stirs something in Santana, something that makes her want to fess up.

"I lied, earlier," Santana says suddenly, surprising herself with the words that just come flying out of her mouth like that.

Becoming so accustomed to Rose being in her life every day seems to have some adverse affect on her, after all. Rose looks at her in question, waiting for Santana to elaborate.

"It's _this_," Santana says, pointing to the pictures. "She's... I mean, she's gorgeous, obviously, but it's not just that."

"This?" Rose repeats. "The heroics?"

Santana shakes her head. "Just... Her whole persona. I mean, what kind of person just shows up and saves shit, then disappears in their spare time? Like, _being_ all of this? I can't imagine. And she just goes about it, like it's the natural thing to do. The right thing to do, and she does it, just because."

Santana keeps on looking at the pictures, feeling a bit foolish, but honestly, it's difficult to explain what she means.

"It's just..." Santana trails off. "She's absolutely mesmerising, in far too many ways to explain."

She looks to Rose, who says nothing, just continues staring down at the pictures, and Santana sighs.

"Anyway, you're done for the day, so you can head out if you want," Santana waves her off, then moves around her desk to take a seat.

Rose nods, but keeps on staring down for a few moments. Santana decides to leave her to her musings, then starts shutting down her computer. Tomorrow is another day, she decides.

Finally, Rose pulls herself together and nods at Santana. "You coming?" she asks Santana as she grabs her bag.

Santana nods. "Just need to pack up."

"I'll wait for you outside," Rose says, halfway out the room already. "I need some air."

Santana nods, though she frowns a bit at Rose, who still seems to be slightly unsettled, in some way. She watches Rose go, eyes briefly trailing over her body before looking back to the pictures on her desk. She piles them together and takes a minute to stare at the one that landed at the top.

Woman Fierce stands in a random Metropolis road, watching the scene of chaos in front of her with a severe expression, body stiff and seconds away from pouncing. She really _is_ mesmerising, Santana thinks.

Although, Santana reckons, Woman Fierce is not alone in that category. Not anymore.

Try as she might to deny it, the past couple of weeks has just proven to Santana that little fucking Marley Rose is someone that has definitely been worth the trouble of getting to know.

It happens unintentionally, that Santana just compares the two for a second, and thinks, yeah, Woman Fierce is hot and, well, _fierce_, and someone that takes Santana's breath away.

But Rose is clever, and sweet, and goofy in a way that Santana finds charming instead of annoying.

She's also much younger, and Santana is her boss, and her time at the Planet is steadily coming to a close, and then there's the tiny issue of her being straight as a fucking ruler.

And... Well.

Santana thinks that she might have a problem.


	4. Chapter 4

**Some questions about their ages here: Marley has just graduated and is around twenty-two, while Santana is around twenty-six. I wanted their ages to be slightly apart because of Santana's position at work, but not so it's too far removed from the two/three year difference they have in canon. **

* * *

So, Santana thinks. So.

She might just, maybe, have the tiniest of crushes on her assistant. It's fine, though, she reckons, 'cause it's just something silly that's occupying her thoughts for the time being.

Her wanting to shrug it all off, though, is made increasingly hard when she gets this strange feeling in her chest upon seeing the invitation. Sometimes the Planet can be so fucking formal. Every year after the mentor programme, they hold an official gala-type evening that functions as a mock-graduation party of sorts. Santana's always attended, because they've got expensive booze and crazy delicious snacks, but this will be the first time she's actually had her own intern take part in it all.

The feeling that overtakes her is sudden and swift. It's super in advance, and they have got a whole month of this thing left, but still.

It just makes Santana realise that it'll all end soon, and as hard as she tries, she can't help the pang of sadness that hits her at the reminder.

–

Santana sighs when she is greeted by another briefing folder on her desk.

She hands it to Rose without a second thought.

"It's about that fucking drug ring again," Santana mutters. "You did the last piece, so whatever new developments are in there, you can work it in."

Rose has that pleased look on her face again, and Santana just bites her lip as she focuses on her computer, trying to ignore the fluttering that a simple smile from Rose evokes.

_Fucking hell_, she thinks. Get it the fuck together, Lopez.

But Rose's bubble is burst soon when Quinn's head pops into the doorway, frowning at Santana before her eyes lock on the folder in Rose's hands.

"Oh, good," Quinn breathes. "You guys haven't started yet. Just hand that back here."

She stretches her hand out to receive the folder from Rose, who looks so sad and unwilling to give it back to Quinn that Santana barely holds in her snort.

Quinn looks down at the folder as it if means her harm. "This one's getting passed on to HR," Quinn says, then looks back up at Santana and Rose. "Not only have these jerks been acquitted, but they're suing the Planet for defamation. We need to release an official statement."

"That's insane," Santana says. She was never that involved with the story to begin with, but she's clued up with most of the particulars, and, well... "The proof against them is fucking steel."

Quinn sighs. "Everyone and their mothers know that, San. But when you're a fucking international drug cartel, I guess you've got enough funds for some peak lawyers."

Santana closes her eyes and runs her hands through her hair. The world is fucked up. "What about the woman who came forward?"

"Witness protection," Quinn answers simply. She holds the folder up. "Well, I needed to have this in ten minutes ago, so. Let me go assist in apologizing to a crew of druglords."

When Quinn disappears, Santana sighs, looking at the forlorn expression on Rose's face.

"There'll be more shit for you to write while you're here, don't worry," Santana offers. "I'll make sure of it."

Rose shakes her head. "It's not that... All of that is just so unnerving."

Santana nods, then stands up. "Well, that's the justice system for you."

"Can't we do anything?" Rose asks helplessly.

"We can't," Santana says, then grabs her jacket. "I'm going for a walk."

Rose nods, and Santana heads up to the roof. Really, she's just escaping to go take a chance by asking for a favour, but no one but Santana needs to know that right now.

They certainly can't do anything to help this, but Santana knows someone who just might.

–

"Uhm, me again," Santana starts, looking out over the east side of the roof, where the ocean is only just visible behind many buildings. "I'm, uhm, having a smoke, so. I'll be at it for a while if you can, umh, get away from... whatever it is you do when not tearing things up. I'll be here."

Santana doesn't have to wait long, and when she hears the tell-tale sound of feet plopping down on the roof behind her, she looks back and tries to do so calmly.

"How is it that you can hear me over everything else happening in this city?" Santana asks with somewhat of a smirk on her face.

Woman Fierce shrugs, but then hits Santana with some levity of her own. "Why, wanna write an article on it?"

Santana scoffs. "You're so full of it," she says.

Woman Fierce just shrugs again, and Santana tries to keep her cool, because, like, she's having banter with Woman Fierce.

Again, _banter_. With _Woman Fierce_.

"What can I do for you?" Woman Fierce says then.

Santana takes a quick drag of her cigar, ignoring the slight disapproving look on Woman Fierce's face. "There are some perps you might be interested in. They just got loose on some whack details and, well... I don't know, that's kind of your area, isn't it?" Santana says. "Seems the feds are stumped at how to keep them behind bars."

Woman Fierce frowns. "What do you need me to do, though?"

Santana shrugs. "I don't know. Round 'em up?" she offers with a slight grin.

Woman Fierce chuckles. "You just said no one can hold them in."

"I just..." Santana shakes her head. "Never mind. I just thought..."

"I'll look into it," Woman Fierce says, and Santana beams. "No promises, though."

Santana nods. "Do you... uhm. Do you need anything?"

She wants to kick herself as soon as she says it, because, what the fuck. Woman Fierce can probably lift this entire building Santana's standing on with her fucking little finger. It's like she can _see _Woman Fierce trying not to laugh at her.

"Not to, er, toot my own horn, but I'm kind of... Well." Woman Fierce shrugs. "There's the strength, and the speed, the hearing and x-ray vision and stuff, so. I'm good."

"'X-ray vision'?" Santana asks, because she never knew that shit.

Woman Fierce nods. For some reason, Santana's mind goes_ there_, because, fuck, and for some reason, she can't help but want to cover herself surreptitiously with the slightest of movements. Woman Fierce picks up on it, though, and her eyes flick downward for a second before widening dramatically, and then, Santana sees the oddest thing she's ever seen in her entire life.

Woman Fierce _blushes_.

"Er, no, _no_," Woman Fierce sputters immediately, but then just clears her throat instead of continuing, looking everywhere but at Santana, and for once, Santana doesn't feel fucking useless in her presence.

Santana takes a final drag from her cigar before stubbing it out. "I need to get back to work," she says gently.

Woman Fierce nods, back rigid and normal severity returned to her face. "I'll look at your lead. Thank you for the information."

Santana waves it off. "If only I could let my intern send you some details, but like... I mean. I don't reckon you have a number or email or something, right?"

"WF at hotmail dot com," Woman Fierce says immediately, finally looking back at Santana again.

"You've got to be shitting me," Santana says without thinking, then feels bad for like, _swearing_ in front of the town's hero after being so careful in the past.

Woman Fierce breaks her poker face at that, smirking and lifting herself over the edge of the roof. "I'm kidding," she says. "I'll do my best."

Santana nods and barely lifts her hand up to wave before Woman Fierce disappears into the sky, and she sighs.

She's becoming more and more comfortable around Woman Fierce, and doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing at this point, really.

–

Someone else is also becoming more confident and relaxed, Santana notes, watching as Rose talks animatedly to her while they walk together after work. Rose is going on about one of her university professors, another one of her stories that has Santana chuckling throughout, and Santana can't believe the change in this girl from only a few weeks ago.

"Do you have a dress for the gala yet?" Rose asks then, switching topics.

"I might just have a little black number lying around," Santana says. "You?"

Rose shakes her head. She scratches the back of her neck for a moment, contemplative. "I don't really own things like that," she murmurs. "Like, tight dresses and stuff. I'll probably go shopping, but like... Yeah. I'll figure it out."

Santana briefly glances at Rose's attire. It's strange to imagine what she'd look like in an evening dress, only because Rose usually wears a lot of sweaters and things that cover her right up, and it looks like she's got quite a few layers on her at all times. Santana ends up imagining a long hippie like skirt with one of Rose's intense oversized jerseys over it, but then just shakes her head at the ridiculous imagery in her mind.

Then Rose steps into dangerous territory with her new area of small talk.

"Er, do you have a... Er, date?" Rose asks, looking highly uncomfortable, and Santana sighs.

She's refrained from addressing this so far, and she probably should have done so while they were at work and not in this non-professional setting, but Rose went there, and well. Santana thinks this has reached a breaking point of sorts.

Santana stops walking and waits for Rose to do the same before levelling her with a serious look.

"Look, Rose," Santana starts, "I know you've completed most of your programme already, and you're doing a bang up job so far, honestly. But if you're bothered by my being gay you just say the word right now and I'll have you deferred to another writer. I mean, it's not a fucking walk in the park for me being around that attitude either, just as I imagine it to be for you being around me, so. Shall we just call this now?"

Rose looks dumbstruck at Santana's forwardness.

"_What_?" Rose splutters. "No!"

Santana is taken aback at the sudden outburst, seeing some people around them stop mid-walk and look at them strangely. Rose's hands come up in apology and then they kind of shuffle out of everyone's way.

"Why would you think that?" Rose says. "That's insane, I never meant–"

"Calm down, Rose," Santana huffs. "It's okay, not everyone is down with that shit, I've had a lifetime of getting used to it. Just, I mean, every time I look at Woman Fierce you get this fucking constipated look on your face and it just gets old, you know?"

Rose frowns deeply. "That is not what that's– Santana, I don't even think about that when... Please don't think I'm like that, I love working under you–"

"Wanky," Santana mutters, not being able to stop herself.

"–and to be honest, I actually requested you in my application form. You know, I've always been a fan, and just, you're so amazing at what you do and I don't care about that at all. My best friend is gay and I know that's the stupidest excuse, but really..."

Rose sighs, looking as lost as she did in her beginning days at the Planet.

"What I'm trying to say is that I, like, admire you a whole lot," Rose mumbles, "and you liking girls is _so_ not even something that... Just, _no_. It's no problem. I'm sorry it looked that way."

Santana frowns. That was rather unexpected, she thinks. But, mostly, a relief. At least, on top of everything else happening with her right now, she's not also a fucking heathen in the eyes of someone she can't seem to get out of her mind lately.

"It's fine," Santana says, starting to walk again and effortlessly navigating them out of the discomfort. "What about you? I see you and Chang's intern are getting pretty close lately. What is it, Lynn?"

"Ryder?" Rose chuckles, then shakes her head. "Not at all. There's nothing there. Nada. I'm not there for that. Totally unattached. Nope."

That's a lot of fucking emphasis and Santana is totally confused as to why it's there, but oh well. Rose looks at her with another expression Santana can't seem to place, and Santana just smiles slightly to fill the silence, then breathes out a sigh of relief when they come to stop in front of her apartment.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Santana says, for some reason happy to see Rose go after this near-draining conversation they just had.

"Definitely," Rose says.

It seems that all the tension from earlier has dissipated finally, and Santana just breathes out slightly. Rose leans forward and wraps her arms around Santana for a moment, whispering in Santana's ear as she does.

"I'm sorry," she says again, then pulls back.

"Consider the hatchet buried," Santana says easily, then shoot Rose a quick smile before opting to shoot up her steps.

She's rather proud of herself for refraining from looking back even once.

–

The next time she sees Woman Fierce in action is when there's another accident, this time involving a pick up and an SUV who crashed into each other right smack in the middle of an intersection.

There's a crowd surrounding the space, watching with bated breaths as a small fire starts spreading just as Woman Fierce brings the last hurt passenger to safety. Woman Fierce's M.O., Santana knows, always taking her victims out of harm's way before addressing the crisis at hand.

Brittany's on assignment with her again, and is startled from taking her latest picture when Santana elbows her in the ribs.

"The fuck is Rose?" Santana hisses, looking around quickly.

Brittany just shrugs, looking upset – well, as upset as Brittany gets – that Santana interrupted her shooting process. "Can we not worry about that now?" she huffs, and Santana relents.

She shot out of the office so quickly that she's not even sure when she lost track of the girl, but then again, this has happened so many times now that Santana isn't really all that surprised.

She glances briefly back to where Woman Fierce is now blowing on the cars so the fire disappears with a great gust of wind coming from her mouth, but Santana can't focus on that when she's worried about whether or not her intern is okay right now, wherever she is.

Woman Fierce is in action right in front of her, and instead of drooling over the sight as she usually does, she spends half her time craning her neck to see if she spots her intern somewhere in the crowd. And God, her priorities are seriously fucked up lately.

She never anticipated her infatuation with Woman Fierce to wane in any way.

But then again, she never expected Marley Rose to barge into her life the way she has, either.

–

When Santana gets to her office, later, it's to be greeted by a cup of coffee waiting for her, and Rose calmly reading something in her space on the opposite of Santana's desk.

"Where were you?" Santana asks curiously, as she takes a seat and reaches for the cup immediately.

"Me?" Rose says. "Where were you?"

Santana frowns. "What? The fucking accident – I looked everywhere for you but lost you in the crowd again."

"Santana," Rose says, looking somewhat amused. "I wasn't even on assignment with you right now."

"What?" Santana says again. "I swear you where right behind me..."

Rose chuckles, still seeming amused, and Santana brings her fingers up to her temples. She thinks she needs more sleep.

"God, my brain must be down today," Santana mutters, and Rose chuckles harder.

"You know how you get when you know that, well, _she's_ going to be there," Rose says, and Santana swears she can see a hint of mirth in her eyes.

"How'd you know she was there?" Santana says, trying to dodge what Rose's implying.

"Oh," Rose says, looking nervous all of a sudden. "Just, you said 'accident', so I assumed..."

Santana blinks. She waves a hand, taking a look around her office, suddenly exhausted. "I'm fucking beat," she says. "I'm think I'm heading out early today. Coming?"

Rose shakes her head, biting her lip. "Not all of us have the power to come and go as we please," she says, somewhat admonishing, and Santana rolls her eyes. "I have to get our outlines in to Quinn, anyway."

"Shit," Santana says. "Totally forgot about that. Let's do it."

"I got it," Rose says, making a gesture to Santana to leave. "Get some rest, boss."

Santana snorts. "Jesus, please don't call me that ever again. Are you sure?"

Rose just nods, and Santana starts packing up without more fuss, because she's actually fucking relieved.

Just before Santana leaves, she feels a hand on her bicep, and turns round to look at Rose, surprised. Rose is pretty fucking close to her now, and if Santana wasn't tired as fuck, she'd swear Rose just glanced down at her lips, but that can't–

"Hope you feel better," Rose says, shaking Santana from her reverie, and Santana just nods.

Rose's voice is soft and sincere, and she squeezes Santana's arms gently before letting go, and it all makes Santana leave her office on unsteady feet.

Santana knows that in this office, she has managed quite well for the last couple of years doing everything she needs to by herself, but... Now that she's seen what it is to have a partnership like this, she finds that she doesn't really want to go at it alone anymore.

–

"Is there something on my face?"

Santana blinks and snaps her mind back to reality. Fuck. She's been caught staring again. Right now, she can either just shake her head and continue with her work, basking in the shame of her leering, or she can totally mask it all by grasping for a conversation topic.

Obviously, the latter wins out.

"Was just wondering," Santana starts, then finds something, "if you're going to apply to work here, you know, when your internship is finished and all that?"

Rose looks contemplative for a minute. When she finally answers, it's with the last thing Santana ever expected.

"It is true that you dated Brittany?" she asks, and Santana sits straighter in her chair. She wonder what gossip the interns have been privy to here, and what else Rose has come to hear.

"Uhm, what?" Santana says, and Rose just shrugs, still expectant. "Uhm... Yeah, a long time ago. Why?"

"Is that weird?" Rose goes on. "Having to work together now?"

Santana frowns at all the questions, but decides to humour Rose anyway. "It's not the worst, but, at the start... Well. I wouldn't recommend it, I guess."

Santana wonders if there is more to the Lynn thing than Rose let on, after all, wanting advice about that. She tries not to let that idea bother her.

(She fails.)

"Then no," Rose says, and Santana is momentarily confused, until she continues, "I won't be applying here."

It's said so matter-of-factly that Santana is not even sure she heard that right, because, well, fuck. What the fuck is she supposed to do with that?

So, Santana just gulps, and opts to focus back on her work.

(She fails again.)

–

The night of the gala, Santana's happy and proud to know that all the interns did so well in this year's run – especially her own – but there's a melancholy that follows her all the way from her apartment to the office.

She's halfway through her second glass of champagne when Rose arrives.

Santana's standing with Quinn and Brittany, laughing at something innocuous when she spots Rose, and promptly has a minor heart attack. They're standing in the corner of one of the rooms the Planet cleared out for the occasion, and Rose has just entered on the other side of the floor. Santana grips her glass so tightly she's surprised it doesn't shatter in her hands, because...

_Fuck_.

Rose is wearing a simple navy evening gown, but holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

Santana's never seen her in anything so tight – aforementioned multiple layers always coating her physique – but now that her actual body is on reveal, it fucking renders Santana _useless_. Rose is fucking breathtaking. Her body is just as beautiful, all the way from where her feet in heels are visible just under the hem of her gown to where the straps of her dress slip over her surprisingly muscular shoulders.

When Santana meets Rose's eyes, she can see Rose blush prettily, and Santana almost melts into a motherfucking puddle right where she stands.

Right, she guesses. Fitting that here, on the last night she'll probably ever see Rose, she finally passes the point of fucking no return, as far as her apparent crush is concerned.

She doesn't know what she says to excuse herself from her friends, but before she knows it, like a fucking magnet, she feels her feet pulling her in Rose's direction, ignoring everyone and everything on her way.

"Sorry, I'm late," Rose says, looking almost uncomfortable in her attire. "I had some costume problems."

"Don't worry about it," Santana says, to both Rose's concerns. "You look, like... Wow, yeah. Good. Really good."

Rose looks down and bites her lip. Her hands wrap around her own body slightly. "This feels very revealing."

Before she knows what she's doing, Santana finds her hands reaching out and taking hold of Rose's hands briefly to stop the action, then lets go as soon as she realises that she's being weird.

"Don't," is all she murmurs softly.

Rose smiles again. "You won't understand this, but I feel... Just like, very naked right now."

Santana frowns. "You look perfect," is all she offers, since Rose is being far too cryptic for her taste.

Instead of elaborating, Santana just puts her drink down and decides, fuck it.

Fuck it all, because this whole thing feels like it's disappearing, somehow, and well. She thinks back to Rose's insistence of her bachelorette status and the fucking psycho conversation they had about Brittany in her office the other day, and shit.

Santana isn't about to to let this chance slip away from her – if she can run headfirst into a bank robbery, this shouldn't be too hard, should it?

"Do you want to dance, Rose?" she asks casually, even though she's freaking the fuck out inside.

Rose looks surprised, but only for a moment before she's breaking into a small pleased smile, nodding, and that's how Santana knows.

She just _knows_.

Santana doesn't hesitate from that point forward, just reaches down to tangle their hands together and lead Rose over to the dance floor.

When they're in the centre, Rose looks kind of nervous about how to do this with a woman, and Santana just smiles at her. She lifts her hand to Rose's waist and marvels at the texture of the dress, all soft and silky underneath her fingertips, but still wound tight enough so that Santana can feel the strong form of Rose's curves underneath it.

Rose exhales at the touch, and Santana's smile transforms into a smirk.

She doesn't say anything as she takes Rose's other hand in her own and feels Rose's free hand come to rest on her shoulder, and they start up a slow rhythm together. It only takes a few seconds for them to move effortlessly together, and Santana finds she can't for the life of her take her eyes off Rose's own.

Even behind the glasses, Santana can see it's probably the most enthralling shade of blue she's ever had the chance to look at. For a moment, Santana thinks there's something hauntingly familiar about Rose's gaze, suddenly strong and confident, not shying away from Santana's own, but then, her vision is cut off dramatically.

The entire room is bathed in darkness as the lights shut down.

At first, Santana thinks it's a simple electrical problem – though, that doesn't stop her from pulling Rose right against her body on instinct, delighting in the closeness – but then she hears a voice over the intercom.

"Evening, members of the Daily Planet," it says, and Santana freezes.

The accent is foreign and Santana connects the dots immediately – she thinks back to the folder Rose has been handling all the while, about druglords that have a serious beef with the Planet, ones that Santana's pretty sure she read to be Albanian, and then everything in her body sinks.

She wants to pull Rose even closer, then, even though she knows that she probably can't do shit, but then she realizes that Rose isn't in her grip anymore, and she feels around blindly.

Then the lights turn back on, and Santana looks around to find Rose nowhere in sight. She gasps when she sees what _is_ in sight, though.

A group of thugs have infiltrated their space, holding some of the staff at gunpoint, including–

"Brittany," Santana breathes out, heart beating erratically.

The biggest of the lot, armed but without a hostage, flanked by his associates behind him, steps forward, grin planted on his face. He opens his mouth to address all the party attendees, who now look up at him in silence, but doesn't get one word out before it happens.

There's a flash of movement from the left of the room to the right, and then Santana sees Brittany slump forward, her attacker falling backward, gun torn from his hand.

Everything escalates from there.

A few more movements follows, more of the members are disarmed, but then a shot rings out in the midst of it all and someone screams, and Santana realises it's probably not safe to just stand there and watch it all happen anymore.

She ducks as everyone starts scuttling around her, moving toward the exits, and Santana feels a strong hand drape over her back.

"Santana," she hears Finn's voice. "Get out of here."

"Brittany," is all Santana says. "Quinn. Fuck– _Rose_."

Finn just presses her forward, even with her struggling against him slightly. He shakes his head as he says, "_Go_, they're fine, I just saw them out the other door– Just, you gotta be safe, San."

Before Santana computes, Finn's pressed her through a backdoor, and she barely gets a glimpse of the interior before he shuts it behind her. The dark figure is still picking off the thugs, but most of them are scattered amongst the Daily Planet's employees now, trying to get away from their hunter.

Santana knows she can't go back in the chaos like that, and decides to follow Finn's advice, looking down at the flight of stairs next to her. The faster she gets down these emergency steps, the faster she can find her friends.

When she gets to the bottom and out an exit, she sees she's in an alley that leads out to the road at the front of the Planet. She hurries her pace, seeing the cars pass up front, desperate to see if her friends are okay, but then–

"Not so fast, Mrs Planet," a voice growls behind her, and Santana's whole body turns to ice.

She turns around slowly. A wayward Albanian that must have escaped the torrent up in the building closes in on her, raising a gun and pointing it steadily right at Santana's chest. Santana breathes heavily and raises her hands shakily.

This isn't the first time Santana's stared down the barrel of a gun, of course, but this is the first time Santana's heart is filled with fear.

If her guess is correct, it was definitely Woman Fierce working her way around the room back in the building, even if she was moving to fast for anyone to see her – which, honestly, there's only one person around here that can move like that, so. That means she's probably far too busy up there to come to Santana's rescue this time, and somewhere at the back of her mind, Santana's pretty sure she's royally fucked.

The only thing Santana can think of to say is a weak, "Please," but she can see, with the dead look in her assailant's eyes, that the plea will fall on deaf ears.

It's like Santana can see it in slow motion, the moment his finger twitches and pulls the trigger, and she just closes her eyes and waits for the impact.

She almost screams when he hears the dull thud of the bullet colliding, closing her eyes tightly and waiting for the sting to make itself known somewhere on her body.

It never comes.

Instead, Santana feels strong arms wrap around her waist and then she's being lifted in the air, away from the shooter.

Woman Fierce, she thinks, so fucking relieved that she takes a while to fucking gather her bearings and realise that she's fucking alive, not fucking shot, and thank fuck. She's _breathing_. Woman Fierce must have put herself between Santana and that bullet before getting them both away from the danger.

Without thinking, Santana's arms wrap around Woman Fierce in turn, but then thinks something feels off, somehow. She frowns, even with her eyes still closed tight, when her hands don't come in contact with Woman Fierce's cape. She also realizes those fucking flowers aren't digging into her chest this time around.

When her fingers actually make contact with the material of the clothes covering Woman Fierce's body, Santana's senses are thrown into overdrive with the familiarity of it all.

It's like... What the fuck.

_All soft and silky underneath her fingertips_, Santana thinks. _But still wound tight enough so that Santana can feel the strong form of Woman Fierce's curves underneath it._

But not Woman Fierce, Santana thinks, as her body goes rigid with realisation.

She pulls back slowly, bracing herself for what she'll come to face when she does.

The last Santana sees before she passes out, with a backdrop of stars and the wind howling in her ears, is her fucking intern's face looking down at her apologetically.


	5. Chapter 5

When Santana wakes up, she's on her bed in her apartment. She looks down to find herself still in her formal clothes from the night before.

It all comes back to her sporadically, then, everything from the party to the attack to her thinking she was about to die, just before being lifted to safety by none other than–

Holy fucking shit.

–

Santana isn't sure how she gets through her morning routine without flaw. She guesses it's the monotony that takes over and carries her through it all, because before she knows it, she's walking past the many cubicles that encompass her level of the Daily Planet.

Even through her daze, she notices the quiet of it all. The emptiness. Everything feels suddenly out of place with the interns gone.

She slows down somewhat as her own bare office draws near, but she's spared from having to face that space when Quinn intercepts her, reminding her of their content meeting.

When she gets to the boardroom and Finn starts talking immediately, she almost wants to stop him, because they're not all gathered yet, then once again remembers that no one has a shadow following them to these meetings anymore.

She's caught up in her own thoughts – which mostly vary between Rose and Woman Fierce – when the room goes still, and then she realises that everyone's looking at her.

"Hmmm?" she asks, not really bothered with the attention. (She's got way, _way_ more pressing things to worry about right now.)

"I asked if you have anything for us?" Finn says, and Santana frowns at him. "Woman Fierce," he elaborates. "The much anticipated feature. Any progress?"

Santana starts. It's on the tip of her tongue.

She can see it now – the fucking story of the year. Every journalist's dream scoop. Unveiling the mask. The true story behind Woman Fierce. The true _name _behind it all.

It's what the fucking Pulitzer was made for, she's sure, and her career will soar, everything just a great fucking free fall from this moment on.

All if she just puts her little intern's name on black and white.

"Nothing," Santana says. "Been a bit.. uhm, distracted." She blinks. "With other stories, I mean."

"Well, drop by my office soon and we'll talk it over," Finn says. "I really like the idea of a proper feature for a change, so even if it's not Woman Fierce, we can brainstorm it."

And then the meeting's dismissed, and Santana falls back into her daze, finally moving toward her office with robotic movements.

–

Santana just _stares_ at her computer for ages, simply dwelling.

She thinks about how could access the web right now, type in Rose's name, and probably find out everything she could ever want to know about the girl.

She thinks about the consequences of that, too, and what would happen to Rose when the world knows her name, and she's got nowhere to hide. She remembers Rose's comment about fame, how she doesn't like the attention, and understands the alter ego thing completely.

She thinks about fucking blind she's been, all this time. Only a fucking pair of glasses between Rose and Woman Fierce, and Santana, fucking investigative journalist extraordinaire, couldn't even see that shit right in front of her face. Like, fucking literally, too, with all the staring she's been doing, one would think she'd at least pick _something_ up.

And then she thinks about her like, fuck, well, her... _feelings_, and the way they've been growing these past three months. How she thought that something might happen, maybe, with her and Rose, while they were dancing, right before all the other shit went down, and everything was shot up in the air.

(She also thinks about how she's been ogling Woman Fierce right in front of Rose this entire time, and basically just made a tit out of herself because, like, well. Fuck. She wonders how that came across, and ugh – it's just all too fucking weird for her to comprehend.)

In the end, she thinks she's fucking fucked, really, because clearly, she's not getting anything fucking productive done today.

Or maybe ever fucking again.

–

She resists going for a smoke about three times that day, because if ever she needed a smoke break, this would be the ideal time.

She's just not brave enough to make it up to the roof, at fucking all.

–

Santana breaks on a Wednesday.

She gingerly grabs her lighter and cigar, as if the noise itself could like, make Rose appear, and then slowly trudges up the rooftop.

Outside, she takes a deep breath and lights the cigar – only after four tries, mind, what with her hands shaking like crazy.

She takes a few deep drags, nerves calming somewhat, but she still feels the adrenaline coursing through her from the morning she woke up in her bed after learning Rose's secret.

Santana says nothing. She doesn't think she's ready, yet. She merely takes in the calm that her sessions on the roof provide. When she blows out for the last time, she closes her eyes briefly and wonders what the chances are she could just like, go to one of those hypnotists and totally just forget all of this ever happened. But the problem with that is that she actually doesn't want to fucking forget any of it, really.

She wouldn't ever want to forget Rose.

She stubs her cigar and turns to go conceal herself in her office again, like she's been doing the past three days, and be unproductive as shit. When she turns around, though, she almost goes into cardiac arrest.

Woman Fierce is standing there, looking at Santana with that fucking puppy dog face that is just _so _Rose that Santana almost kicks herself for not realising this earlier. Like, honestly. She can see all the small little features now, the similarities. But she can also see the differences that a pair of glasses and pulled up hair made, before, along with Rose's peculiar demeanour that threw Santana off the trail completely.

Santana stands shock still for long moments, just taking all these details in, and Woman Fierce lets her. Or, well, Rose lets her. Or– Fuck, this is confusing.

"Hi," Woman Fierce says meekly, and the tone is all Rose. Santana thinks her mind is going to vomit from spinning so much with all the things she's suddenly noticing now.

Santana just nods, mouth hanging open, and shit. For a second, she's afraid, because she wonders if she's in any way a threat to Rose now, _aware_, but then remembers that Woman Fierce is the hero, here, and after all, if she wanted Santana done with, she wouldn't have waited three days to do so.

"I didn't call you," Santana says then, not knowing what else to do.

Rose shrugs. "You didn't have to."

Santana nods again.

"I... Are you okay?" Woman Fierce – Rose, whatever – asks, stepping forward a bit, and Santana backs away immediately. Rose looks hurt at this, probably thinking Santana is scared of her now or some shit, but honestly, Santana is just so fucking _lost_ with everything that she simply doesn't know how to react to things anymore.

"You're Woman Fierce," Santana says dumbly. "I'm not okay."

Santana realises she's probably being selfish here, 'cause it's not her goddamn secret identity that's at stake, but still. She feels so _foolish_, being taken for a twat like that, and she can't help but admit that there's been a part of her that has, the past couple of days, seriously considered the fact that Rose has just been playing with her all along, especially with her knowing about Santana's soft spot for Woman Fierce and all.

"I didn't have time for... The dress was too tight for me to fit my costume underneath and I... Well, I didn't want you to find out like that," Rose says, and fuck, that's another contrived 80s line, and just, ugh.

"So, you wanted me to find out?" Santana narrows her eyes, and Rose just shrugs, breaks eye contact. It gives Santana new resolve, somehow, and she straightens up. "Well, if that's all..."

"Wait, that's it?" Rose asks, and then the transition is fully fledged – Santana sees her meek intern standing in front of her instead of the town's hero.

On instinct, Santana tries to keep eye contact, trying to fake intimidation as she moves lightly closer to Rose. But the closer she moves, the more she needs to tilt her head up and the less Santana feels in control of it all. She just looks at Rose questioningly, and Rose looks increasingly comfortable, and Santana is secretly pleased at the sight.

"You don't have millions of questions?" Rose goes on.

"Billions, actually," Santana says easily. "But are you really going to answer them?"

Rose shrugs again, and Santana takes it as a sign to strike. But before she can, Rose counters with one of her own, "Are you going to write the article?"

Santana freezes. "What do you mean?"

"When I started at the Planet," Rose explains. "The grand feature you wanted to do. Finn reminded you the other day."

"You heard," Santana says, because of course. Rose nods. "I don't know."

"Well, you have everything you need, I guess," Rose says as if Santana didn't already know that. "You know me now."

"Not even slightly," Santana says, and Rose frowns. "You're two different people," Santana supplies. "The tough, sassy hero and the shy, timid intern. Quite the actress, you are."

She doesn't mean it to come out so accusing. Or maybe she does, whatever. Either way, Rose narrows her eyes.

"You're two different people, too," Rose says. On Santana's look, she adds, "Around me and Woman Fierce."

Santana looks away, not really sure if she's embarrassed or enraged.

A horn blasts in the distance, and Santana looks back at Rose just long enough to catch the brief far-off look that crosses her features at times. Rose sighs, and Santana knows what's coming. Sure enough, Rose starts hovering, and it's pretty strange, knowing that it's actually _Rose_ who is defying the laws of gravity right in front of Santana's face.

"I'm needed," Rose says, then smiles at Santana lightly before making to leave.

"Wait," Santana says, stepping forward and clearing her throat. "I do have one quick question," she says, because right now, she thinks she couldn't be less bothered with the super stuff than with the other, normal, much more terrifying stuff that has been going on with them. "Are you gay?" she asks quickly, watching the shock adorn Rose's face.

"I, er," Rose says, frowning deeply now. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not even _human_, so..."

It comes off totally self-deprecating, which makes Santana sad for some reason, and she just nods, watches as Rose does the same and flies to another part of the city at lightning speed.

When she loses sight of Rose completely, Santana just grips her jacket tighter around herself and makes her way back to the office.

–

"What's up with you lately?" Brittany asks. "I haven't seen you look so down since our high school, stuck-in-Narnia days."

Santana looks up from the notes she'd been jotting down of the scene in front of them. Paramedics are helping some people out after a building caved in, but everyone's just waiting, really, for the real back-up to appear.

"Is it because Marley left?" Brittany presses.

Santana goes shock still. "What?" she asks slowly.

Brittany just smiles at her. "Of all people, by now you should know I can see your googly eyes from a mile, San."

Santana says nothing. She just goes back to writing. Sounds of awe come from the crowd, then, and Santana looks up to see Woman Fierce swooping in and enter the ruins immediately. Or well, Rose doing all of that, she guesses.

Santana tries to do her job, tries to just observe and stay objective and just _report_, but honestly... Now that she knows she's actually looking at _Rose _lifting that concrete like it's dirt and saving life and life like that...

It's damn near impossible.

It's the first time she's seen Woman Fierce in action since she found out, and while i's a good thing, usually, that the town goes so long without a major disaster, to Santana it just feels like a lifetime since she got to see the girl.

She's been so fucking stupid. Rose disappearing conveniently every time Woman Fierce was called to action, those fucking bathroom breaks, and the fact that Santana never saw either of them in the same place. Or well, she has, but not in the way she expected, obviously.

When it's all done, long minutes later, everyone's out of the now completely collapsed building and Rose is off to the side, checking on the victims like she always does before disappearing into the sky.

For the first time, Santana thinks her lust-goggles have come off long enough for her to truly take in the complete scene that Woman Fierce finds herself in. Instead of just focusing on the woman, Santana sees the whole crowd around her, the paramedics and fire department and police, how everyone's attention, just like her own usually is, just gravitates toward Rose.

She watches as Rose just nods politely, seeming uncomfortable at the attention, but smiles slightly before nodding in greeting. Even from here, Santana can see how forced it is.

Then Rose darts off, and after the brief but extreme discomfort Santana just witnessed, she can only imagine how relieved Rose must be at the escape. She wonders how it would be, as Rose said, without an 'off switch', if Rose couldn't get away so easily, just followed and recognized at another location. Never having any time to just... _be_.

It's like Santana realises just _how much_ power she holds, in that moment, to rip that entire escape away from someone with only her words, and she almost drops her pen when it sinks in.

–

Santana doesn't even stop at her own office the next morning, just darts straight to Finn's as soon as she gets to the Planet.

"Right," she says, pacing in front of his desk. "The Woman Fierce feature is not working out."

Finn looks disappointed. Failure aside, she's glad to know he was actually supporting her this whole time, despite all the naysayers. "How so?" is all he asks.

"Fabray's right," Santana says. "Chick's been on the scene for a whole year. It has been done to death. Let's just keep painting her as that daily hero that makes intermittent appearances on the front page instead. I'll brainstorm a new feature."

Finn looks at her strangely. Damn, she probably shouldn't have agreed with Fabray – that's a dead giveaway.

"I just thought that, if anyone, _you'd_ be the one to get a new spin on it," Finn says slowly.

Santana shrugs. "Can't win 'em all. Guess even I'm wrong sometimes."

Finn looks at her like she's grown two heads, and wow, her admitting fault is probably even worse than the Fabray excuse.

She simply smiles to herself as she leaves his office without another word. Thinking about past experiences with Finn, he's probably just chalked her erratic behaviour down to PMS, not knowing how else to react to her shit.

Right now, feminism aside, she wouldn't have it any other way.

–

Much later that evening, Santana's already half asleep when she hears a tapping on her window.

Her _window_.

In the back of her mind, she's scared as fuck, but something tells her it's nothing to fear, really, and so she just slowly walks over and pulls back the curtains. She gasps when she sees what's outside.

It's Rose. Only, it's not really Rose. And it's not Woman Fierce, either.

Rose hovers outside her window – Santana's fucking window on the fourth floor, God this is surreal – wearing a simple jeans and sweater, nothing like the proper work attire or super spandex Santana's grown used to, with her hair hanging in soft curls around her face, which is free of the yellow headband and dark glasses.

This, _this_ is the real unmasked Woman Fierce. Not the superhero, or the quiet alter ego.

Santana can only think of it in one way: this is _Marley_.

Santana gulps. Marley looks at her with a gentle expression.

"May I come in?" she asks softly, and Santana just nods mutely and stands aside.

Marley comes to a slow rest on Santana's carpet and takes a curious look around. Santana crosses her arms around herself, cold gust that just came from outside giving her slight goosebumps. Or maybe it's just caused by her company.

"What are you doing here?" Santana says. She wants to ask how Marley even knew which apartment was hers, but then Santana remembers she can fucking see through things. Right.

"You're not doing the article," is all Marley says instead, looking away from the interior back to Santana.

Right. She can also hear _everything_. Santana rolls her eyes. "Surprise," she mutters sarcastically.

Marley smiles at this. Her eyes flick to Santana's bed, and the photos on her bedside table, and then looks uncomfortable again. "Can we, er, talk?"

Santana gets what she's on to. She gestures to the door that leads to the living room, where it's less right in Santana's private space. "Sure," Santana agrees, because it's late, and her defences are down, and she guesses she can never stop being confused-slash-slightly-mad about things if she doesn't find out more about them, anyway. "Through there."

Marley spends as much time taking in the interior of Santana's living area – which is really just a big open space that comprises of both her kitchen and living room together – as she does her bedroom, and for some reason, Santana finds it charming. Santana also finds that she herself spends a significant amount of time also observing what feels like a totally new person she's meeting now.

"So," Marley says eventually, turning around and still smiling at Santana, who has still not left the doorway of her bedroom. Santana finds this chick looks permanently jolly, for some reason. "What do you want to know?"

Santana raises a brow. "You just said you heard I'm not going the article anymore."

Marley shrugs, and then Santana sees it for a second time ever – she's blushing. "Not, er... Just. I... Er. I'd like to, er, get to know you, too. You know, I thought we..."

Marley trails off, and Santana doesn't say anything. She knows what Marley means, completely, and perhaps it's silly to think they can kind of pick up where they left off, pre-Santana finding out about Woman Fierce, but...

Perhaps it isn't.

"Never mind," Marley says suddenly, cheeks even redder now. She slowly edges toward Santana's living room window. "I shouldn't have–"

"Marley," Santana says, which effectively stops Marley in her tracks. She turns to look at Santana with wide eyes.

"You called me Marley," she notes.

Santana smiles. "Just... This," Santana gestures at her get up. "You don't look like Woman Fierce right now. Or... you know. Like Rose."

Marley nods, then wrings her hands together. She looks as nervous as Santana feels, and unlike Rose – who served as the shadow working beneath her for the longest time – or Woman Fierce – who Santana admired longingly since she first saw her – it finally feels like they're on equal foot, her and Marley.

"I want to get to know you, too," Santana says seriously.

Marley smiles brilliantly, and fuck, if she's being honest, it makes Santana a little weak at the knees.

(She's thinks she's in even more trouble than she originally thought, with both Rose and Woman Fierce.)

"What do you want to know?" Marley asks tentatively.

Santana's answer is immediate. "Everything."

Marley grins. "How much time do you have?"

Santana matches it with a grin of her own.

"I'll get the coffee."


	6. Chapter 6

This is what Santana comes to know about Marley over several cups of coffee.

She learns that Marley landed here as a baby after surviving the wipe out of her entire race and planet, which makes Santana sad in a way that she hasn't ever experienced before. Marley tells Santana of a kind woman named Millie who took her in despite the fact that she was barely getting by on her own to begin with, and despite Marley's abilities that manifested itself from an early age. How Millie proceeded to nurture those abilities and keep Marley on the right track, all through puberty where Marley's powers went a bit haywire, and high school where Marley was permanently tempted to use it for the worse on her bullies, and eventually university where Marley began to take her nighttime hobby of crime-fighting ever more seriously. She even equipped Marley with the suit she wears to this day.

And then there are the things Marley doesn't say, the type of things Santana has learned to spot easily after years and years of picking up the subtle things behind the interviews she conducts. She can barely imagine the _loneliness _of it all. Santana remembers how tired she, too, felt in high school, after ages of hiding her true self, and how a part of her suffered so much from it all that, sometimes, it still feels like she hasn't fully healed. And for Marley, that's all multiplied to an infinite degree, and after all this time it still hasn't stopped – and never will. This all makes Santana even sadder.

Finished with her story, Marley must catch the look on Santana's face, because she scoots closer to her where they're sitting on the couch, puts a hand on Santana's shoulder and says, "It's okay. I'm used to it now." Marley smiles and winks. "And it's not like your life's all that bad when you get to make the papers almost every day."

Santana snorts. "You said something about a best friend? Do they know?"

"Wade," Marley says. "He doesn't. It's just you and my mom."

"What about... Uhm..." Santana breaks eye contact, "...any...exes?"

Santana looks up to see Marley colouring slightly and biting her lip. "I had a boyfriend in high school and in uni," she says. "My high school boyfriend, Jake, we broke up because of normal teenage stupidity. But the other one... Well, I wasn't around much, you know? This lifestyle doesn't exactly lend itself to healthy relationships. I can't always be all that... _present_."

This last part is paired with a deliberate stare, and Santana might be jumping the gun a bit by doing so, but she immediately says, "That doesn't bother me."

Marley colours further and ducks her head. "Yeah, so... It's just me and my mom. I, er, I still kind of... live with her. But like, it's only because of financial stuff, I mean, you know how it is to upkeep an apartment, and it's not like–"

"Marley," Santana says softly. "So chilled. I'd totally live with my parents too, if they weren't still stuck in some irrelevant hicktown. The laundry service is amazing, I get it."

Marley chuckles a bit at that, and then it's quiet for a while. Santana feels like Marley has just laid out her faults for Santana to see, and she wonders if it was done as a kind of warning, as it sounded like.

So she offers, "I cry when I get shitfaced." Marley looks surprised at the randomness, and Santana shrugs. "And when I get to a new place, I always rummage through every single surface I can get my hands on. Just saying, no one's perfect. I might dig Woman Fierce, but I don't have some warped hero-worship thing going on."

Marley smiles. "I just wanted to let you know what you're in for."

"I'm Santana fucking Lopez," Santana answers easily. "I can handle my shit."

Now Marley rolls her eyes, then glances out the window where the sun's starting to rise. "Oh dear," Marley breathes. "You need to get some sleep."

Luckily for Santana, it's Saturday. Santana watches as Marley gets up and strolls past her, heading for the door.

"Better leave the normal way now that it's light out," Marley says, and it's kind of awkward, Santana thinks, as if she doesn't know what to do with herself – like, what happens now? "If that's okay?"

Santana gets up too and walks over to where Marley's already standing in her small semi-foyer. "'Course," she mumbles, then unlocks and opens the door. "There's a buzzer down on the left of the door. You won't miss it."

Marley nods and smiles before stepping through the doorway, and it only then seems to register for Santana that the object of her affection is actually, like, walking _away_ from her right now.

"Wait, Marley," Santana calls, watching as Marley turns back from the other end of the hallway. "When will I... uhm... Can we... _hang out_ again sometime?"

God, that was atrocious. Santana will be lucky if Marley comes so much as within fifty feet of her ever again.

But Marley takes it all in stride, merely smiling slightly for a second and furrowing her brow. Her question is small and innocent, but to Santana it sounds like it reverberates through the entire city.

"You mean like, a date?"

Santana gulps. Her eyes are wide, she's sure, 'cause that progressed rather more quickly than she expected. (That's not to say she's wholly displeased with the development, though, obviously.)

"Uhm," Santana stutters, but then pulls herself together. "Uhm. Yeah. I'd like that... If, uhm, you do?"

Marley just bites her lip again, nodding in multiple quick movements before smiling again and disappearing down the stairs.

And the only reason Santana refrains from shouting in joy when she gets back in her apartment is because she knows Marley would hear her.

–

"That's more like it," Brittany says, and Santana looks up at her, frowning. Brittany smiles. "Back in the business, mopiness gone, HBIC aura back in place. There's the Santana we know."

Santana just shrugs, because how does one put everything that has happened to her the past four months in words?

Instead, she just focuses back on the scene in front of her, watching as Marley, in full Woman Fierce costume, extracts felons from a car one by one, then hand them over to the police, unfazed by every single bullet they send her way.

Santana is sure she's tripping, but every now and then, she's also sure Marley sends a smirk over at her during the process, all casual-like, as if Santana's health can handle that shit.

–

Santana looks at herself in the mirror.

Fine, she thinks. She's not overdressed, not underdressed, just casual and chilled.

Which is not at all like she's feeling on the inside.

A knock at her door – a mini heart attack to accompany it – and then Santana's sort-of-but-not-really jogging to her front door.

When she opens it, her breath catches at seeing Marley standing there, smiling shyly, and God, when will she get used to all of this? Hopefully fucking soon, because she can not afford any more stupidities in front of this woman.

"Ready?" Marley says, and Santana just nods, then follows her all the way out of the building and into a taxi.

"Where are we going?" Santana asks eventually, seeing the taxi is busy driving them almost out of town.

Marley just shakes her head mysteriously and Santana pretends to huff, but she loves the surprise of it all, really.

When they finally stop, Santana gets out and sees they're at some run down burger joint at the egde of town, and she looks at Marley questioningly. "It doesn't look like much," Marley says, "but the food will blow your mind."

It does.

Santana spends another night simply talking to Marley over a diner table, and she thinks that she will never tire of that, not really.

The more time she spends with this girl, the more gone she feels herself falling, and fuck, she thinks. But in the end, that's probably quite a delightful problem to have, actually.

When they finish what is arguably the best burger Santana's ever had – Marley was totally right – they go outside and take a walk around the block. It looks like a pretty shady area, Santana thinks, but it's hard to be scared when she knows just what her company is capable of.

About one minute in, Santana stares at their hands, and feels like a fucking school girl when she debates whether to reach out for it or not, but before she can decide on an answer, Marley speaks up.

"There's another thing," Marley says slowly. "If you wanted to... The other night you said that, er, _one day_ you'd like to see where I grew up, but, er, I thought I wanted you to, er, see it, maybe, tonight? Only if you wanted to."

"You grew up on a farm in Kansas," Santana says blankly, as if Marley didn't know that yet.

Marley shrugs. "It's not that far."

And oh, right, Santana thinks. "Uhm, yeah," Santana says, albeit a little unsure. "Sure."

"Sure?" Marley asks dubiously.

"I said I wanted to, didn't I?" Santana says softly, recalling their conversation the other night.

Marley nods, and then gestures for Santana to follow her. They walk into a shielded alleyway, and Santana frowns.

"This the part where you cut me up into little pieces?" she asks jokingly, and Marley just laughs lightly.

When they're in the shadows, Marley faces Santana.

"Step on my feet," Marley says seriously, and Santana snorts. Marley doesn't laugh, though, and Santana's eyes widen.

"Really?"

Marley grins now, and steps closer to her, and Santana's heart rate picks up immediately, which she's sure Marley can hear because her grin transforms into a smirk.

"Trust me," Marley whispers, and it's like Santana's in a trance, because she does it, then, no matter how much it makes her feel like a little child.

Marley's arms wound around that familiar part of her waist, and Santana's arms naturally shoot around Marley's shoulders, and thank God she's used to this by now, otherwise she would have swore again as Marley lifts them into the air.

–

After minutes of flying, during which Santana simply enjoyed the feel and smell of having Marley so close to her, they start descending.

Santana looks away from where her head was tucked into Marley's neck to see a large field leading up to a modest-looking farmhouse. Marley puts her on the ground, gently, and gestures up to it.

"So, yeah, uhm, that's it," Marley mutters. "It's not much, but–"

"It's lovely," Santana says. "Can I see it?"

Marley nods. "No one lives there now. I come here, sometimes, if I want a break from things... Or, you know. Just need a rest."

Santana nods. She bites her lip, and decides, fuck it. Marley's being all sweet-like and showing her the house she grew up in, and honestly, Santana isn't a pissy, so she'll do what she wants.

She reaches out and takes hold of Marley's hand, squeezing quickly, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Marley look down, but then feels a squeeze back, and there.

Wasn't so hard, was it?

Marley shows her all around the farmhouse, regaling Santana with hilarious stories of a teenage version of herself getting into all sorts of shenanigans around the farm, and it's not a five star restaurant or a romantic stroll next to the beach or any of that old shit, but just such an honest look into someone else's life that Santana doesn't think she's ever been on a better first date.

"I think you should come and work at the Planet," Santana says, just as they finish their tour. She's thought about this for a while now, and really. "Junior writers are usually paired with seniors that are willing, and if you work your way up while working with me... Well, you wouldn't ever have to worry about disappearing and shit around the office, you know? I'll totally have your back."

Marley contemplates this. "I... I thought, that with Brittany...?"

Santana shrugs. "I uhm, I thought you were asking for... uhm, Lynn at the time, but... It wasn't all that bad, really. I was exaggerating a bit, I guess."

Marley snorts, and Santana just tries to avoid eye contact. Marley squeezes her hand again. "I'll think about it," she says, then glances up to the sky. "Ready to head home?"

Santana nods and steps closer to Marley, prepared for this drill by now.

"Actually," Marley says, "it'll go quicker if I can just... Well... Let me..."

And before Santana knows it, Marley's scooped her up bridal style, flying with Santana hanging beneath her, Marley's hands supporting her under her back and knees. Santana scrambles to hang on to Marley's neck even though she knows it's not really needed, but to be honest, she'll take touching Marley any chance she can get.

When they near the city, Marley hovers up there for a moment so Santana can take in the view, and God, she can't even comprehend what Marley's life must be like, spending most of her time looking down on everybody like this.

Marley takes her to the rooftop of her building, and slowly lowers them both to the ground. She stays there for a moment, and Santana just kind of keeps her arms around Marley like that.

"Goodnight, Marley," Santana says. She looks into Marley's eyes for a long time, wondering if this is the moment, but then decides against it at the last minute, for some reason, because little steps at a time, she thinks, and tonight they've taken multiple leaps. Instead, she places a quick kiss to Marley's cheek, and pulls back to see Marley colouring again, and smiles at her. "See you soon."

"Yeah," Marley exhales, and Santana's quite satisfied with how dazed Marley looks, before she's smiling and waiting for Santana to get inside the building before taking off.

–

The right moment comes on their next date, when Santana invites Marley over to cook for her, which is ordinary and boring, but she can't really top a nighttime flight to another state, and won't even attempt to try.

Marley just watches her with that peculiar smile all through the evening, and Santana's more than pleased when she can see in Marley's face how much she's enjoying the meal.

It happens when she's grabbing bowls for desert, that Santana's hand slips because the rest of her body was turned to keep talking to Marley, and before she knows it, a bowl plummets to the floor.

Santana's eyes close on instinct, waiting for the smash, but when it never comes, she open her eyes to find Marley standing right in front of her, not behind the counter like seconds earlier, holding the bowl safely in her hand. The sight shocks Santana so much that she stumbles backward, sending another glass on the counter spiralling down, too, but then she sees Marley reach out at super speed and intercept the glass from its journey to destruction.

Marley smiles at her as she puts the items on the worktop behind her, but then just keeps standing there, right in Santana's space.

"Careful," Marley says, but it's barely a whisper because she's now so close to Santana and the moment feels just as fragile as the almost-broken ceramics on the countertop do.

Marley still doesn't back away, and Santana takes a deep breath as she moves even closer to Marley, who glances down at her lips quickly when Santana does so, and the action makes Santana smile a bit. Santana brings her hands up and places them on Marley's neck, keeping eye contact to look for any signs that she read the situation wrong here, but she finds none.

So she slowly surges forward, that last bit of distance, and then she's melting, truly, honestly.

Marley's lips are soft but sure, and so is the way she's gripping onto Santana's hips, and fuck if it isn't the best thing Santana's ever encountered in her entire life.

–

A whole month of dating Marley. And Rose, and Woman Fierce, she guesses. It's brilliant, because sometimes, Santana encounters parts of the quiet but charming intern and at others, some part of the strong and secure Woman Fierce peeks out through the surface, but on the whole, it's just Marley around her, all the time. Where Santana was once apprehensive of the trouble she found herself in, becoming so quickly enamoured with the woman, she wouldn't have it any other way now, really.

Santana is startled from her thoughts when she feels a presence behind her. She's out of the Planet's rooftop, cigar in hand. She feels soft hands wrapping around her middle, though, a chin resting on her shoulder, then those fucking flowers digging into her back, and she relaxes into the touch immediately.

"Hey, you," Santana murmurs, then just hears a hum and feels a kiss being pressed to her temple in answer.

"Missed you," Marley says instead, and Santana smiles, because they saw each other, like, yesterday, and it's good to know she's not alone in falling headfirst too fast into it all right now.

Santana puts out her cigar and turns around to kiss Marley, but Marley just scrunches up her face disgustedly and shakes her head. Santana hits her shoulder lightly and Marley breaks into a grin.

"I don't think so," Marley says. "Your mouth is ash."

"Jerk," Santana says, but doesn't mean it in the slightest.

Marley leans forward and kisses her forehead instead. "Just wanted to say hi," Marley says. "See you tonight."

Santana hugs Marley tightly before she goes, whispering, "Be careful," into her chest, and when Marley chuckles into her ear, she wonders how the sound still makes her stomach twist in delight no matter how many times she's heard it.

–

"So, uhm," Marley says, "here we are."

She looks incredibly nervous for some reason and it makes Santana nervous by extension. Marley's lead her down a row of flats not far from where Santana lives, and Santana looks up at the building they're at, confused.

"Which is...?" Santana asks.

"You're cordially invited to dinner," Marley says. "At the, er, the Rose household."

Santana's eyes widen. Marley's place. Her apartment. That she lives in. That she shares with her _mother_.

"If you, er, wanted to," Marley adds in a quick splutter. "We can go do something else if you don't–"

"No," Santana says, moving her hand from holding Marley's up to her bicep, squeezing gently. "It's, uhm, okay. It's okay, right?"

Marley shrugs, a nervous giggle leaving her lips. "I don't know," she says honestly. "Maybe."

Maybe it's too early for all this yet, but some part of Santana's genuinely curious, and well. There's also that whole 'jumping into things without really thinking them through' tendency, so.

"Let's do it."

–

So, Millie Rose is possibly the nicest person on earth.

She cooks for them, engages them in small talk around the dinner table, and looks completely at ease whenever Marley's arm drapes over Santana's chair behind her back or her hand makes it to Santana's thigh, and God, if Santana wasn't crazy about her daughter, she would probably be totally captivated by this woman instead. She knows why Marley is the way she is now, she supposes.

Her night is only topped off when Marley clears her throat at the end of dinner and says, "I have an announcement to make, actually, which is what tonight's all about, I guess."

Santana glances to Millie, who looks as surprised as she is, then turns her gaze back to Marley, who smiles at them both.

"You're looking at the Daily Planet's newest employee," Marley says slowly.

Millie jumps up in joy and engulfs her in a hug, and Santana just sits back and watches the moment, waiting for her turn. But really, getting to witness that moment firsthand is better than her own congratulatory hug could ever be.

–

The first day after Marley starts her job at the Planet, she walks Santana home as she always did, only this time they're holding hands and staring at each other more than watching the road in front of them. Santana thinks back to the days she was trying to ignore her attraction to Marley, and then suddenly realises the smallest, stupidest thing.

"You never did take the fucking bus, did you?" Santana says, and Marley just laughs in reply.

Marley ends up staying at Santana's place long after the sun has set, and Santana just doesn't want to see her go, really, doesn't ever seem to get enough of Marley.

That's how she finds herself making out heavily with Marley by her living room window, when Marley's technically suspended in midair, already halfway out of the apartment. Santana just can't seem to let go, but it's not like Marley's putting up much of a struggle, really, and Santana knows it would take only a minuscule amount of effort for her if she wanted to escape Santana's grasp.

"Santana," Marley says, breath laboured, and the sound of it makes Santana smile into their next kiss. "Seriously. We have work tomorrow."

"Sleep over," Santana breathes out, keeping their faces close together, watching Marley's reaction, which is all slacked jaw and surprised eyes.

"Like, er, _sleep_ over?" Marley asks. "Or, er, sleep over?"

Santana laughs, then rubs her thumb down Marley's jaw. "Whatever you want."

"Er," Marley lowers herself back into Santana's apartment completely. "I want to, but... Er... Last time I... I dislocated his shoulder."

Santana frowns. "What?"

"The first time I... With my college boyfriend," Marley says, blushing deeply. "We were– And it just kind of... popped."

Santana burst out laughing, and Marley looks at her sternly. "I'm sorry, babe," Santana wheezes, "but God, that was a terrible choice of words."

Marley's eyes go wide, and she stutters out a reply, but Santana just cuts her off with a kiss, calming down from her laughing fit.

When they break apart, Santana says, confidently, "You won't hurt me."

Marley sighs, cheeks still flushed as hell. "I've also... Never... With a woman..."

Santana smiles. "I'll go easy on you," she says, winking, and Marley rolls her eyes.

"Let's just..." Marley sighs. "Slow, okay?"

Santana nods and presses their lips together again, keeps it locked until they're in bed, naked, and she moves down to kiss Marley's neck with her left hand drawing slow circles on Marley's hip, body hovering between Marley's opened thighs.

Marley's breathing heavily, eyes closed and head tilted backwards, and Santana smiles at the sight, torn between finding it utterly hot and endearingly adorable.

"Alright?" Santana says, and Marley's eyes open and look at her, some fear shining behind them, but she nods anyway.

Santana goes slow, as Marley wished, and can't help but watch in awe as she sees Woman fucking Fierce, most powerful being in the universe, arching and moaning underneath her, completely at her mercy. She watches as Marley's hands either tangle in the sheets, or in Santana's hair, or remain in fists as she lightly holds onto Santana's back.

It makes her a bit sad that she can't feel Marley gripping onto her, how her fingers twitch with the way Santana's moving inside her or nails dig into her skin every now and then, but she keeps hope that, with time, Marley will come to trust herself more and just let go with Santana, when they're like this.

When Marley comes, she arches into Santana spectacularly, and Santana just smiles where her head is dug into Marley's neck, placing soft kisses on the sweaty skin.

She feels how Marley presses her back into the mattress, and then she's confused for a bit, because when did Marley even flip them over? But then she opens her eyes and freezes.

"Uhm, Marley," she whispers. A still out of breath Marley just murmurs incoherently in acknowledgement, so Santana adds, "We're on the ceiling."

Marley finally opens her eyes and looks around, then smiles. Santana just clutches tighter at her, looking beyond Marley's shoulder to her bed that seems so far underneath them.

"Sorry," Marley says, then floats back down, all lazy, from side to side like a feather falling, and Santana smiles at how she just totally made this super woman lose herself. She won't even pretend that it isn't the most fucking badass she's ever felt in her life.

When Marley does actually flip them around, though, kissing her hard, she gladly surrenders to the feeling.

Marley's touch is electrifying, and Santana is simultaneously dying from the stimulation and melting at how deliberately careful Marley's being with her, and she's just a big mess, really. When Marley starts moving faster inside of her, Santana's sure she's actually like, entering another plane of existence, because, _shit_.

Marley moves at a pace that is obviously not fucking human at all and it's driving Santana fucking _insane_. She holds on to Marley, tightly, legs and arms wrapping around her body like it's a life-raft, but really, oh fucking _God_, she thinks, no fucking human alive is supposed to feel _this_ much pleasure, because...

Because...

Santana can't really remember what she was thinking in that moment, because she comes so hard that she thinks she stops breathing.

–

When she comes to, later, a worried Marley's holding a cold cloth to her neck.

"You okay?" Marley says.

"What happened?" Santana asks, groggy.

"You, er..." Marley looks uncomfortable. "You kind of... er, passed out."

"Jesus Christ," Santana says, and she swears she can still feel the pleasure coursing through her body, no matter how much time has passed, and fuck. For a moment, she fears that she's never going to be able to keep up with Marley, ever, but then thinks about how Marley still needs to learn to let go, too, and hey, they can totally work on those little things together.

Really. She doesn't mind the practice. Besides, Santana Lopez doesn't back down from a challenge.

"Did I hurt you?" Marley asks, voice small.

"Anything but," Santana says, running a finger up Marley's forearm surely. She knows the best way to alleviate the fears in Marley's head, so she just smirks wickedly and says, "Let's go again," before kissing Marley once more.

–

"Wow," is all Santana can say, later, when they're sated and sleepy, and Marley's lying behind her with a sure arm thrown over Santana's middle, holding her close.

"Yeah," Marley says. "Wow."

Santana giggles a bit, actually fucking _giggles_, and then decides to fuck with Marley a bit, just because she can.

"I know," she reiterates. "I just had sex with Woman Fierce."

"Hey," Marley says, lightly slapping Santana's hip, and Santana only giggles harder. God, her orgasms must have addled her brain completely.

"Kidding, obviously," Santana says, tangling her fingers with Marley's, then bringing Marley's hand up to her mouth to place a soft kiss on it. "But God, _that_ should make the front page tomorrow, not Woman Fierce's heroics."

Marley snorts. "Yeah, I'm not down with that." Santana can feel Marley smiling into her neck. "Let's keep the so-called heroics to the bed, yeah?"

Santana chuckles. "Sure thing, hero."

"Oh my God, stop it," Marley complains. "But, really, Woman Fierce is so last week." This is said with fake teenage indignation, and with the giddy mood Santana's in, it just makes her chuckle harder. Then Marley turns serious again. "You know who's a _real_ hero, though? People like my mom, you know? Doing everyday stuff, just because, even if it only changes one person's world. Sometimes I get sick of people going on about Woman Fierce when there's so much _more_ out there."

"Yeah?" Santana says, squeezing Marley's fingers.

Marley nods into her neck, kissing it again. It's quiet for a while, until Santana realises something.

"Oh my God," Santana says, lightbulb going off. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you just brought up your mother while we're naked in bed, because I just got an idea."

–

Santana doesn't hesitate to speak up in their next content meeting.

"The feature," she addresses Finn directly. "It's back on."

Finn frowns. "You have something?"

"A whole slew of 'em," Santana says. "Everyday heroes. The people of Metropolis. It could be a running thing, you know, a random citizen that adorns the front page every other week or so. We have a bevy of headlines out there. Our first one, for example, a lunch lady, single mom, that provides for her and her daughter every day without question, and the crazy guts it takes to take on that responsibility. That's a real hero," Santana finishes, thinking about Marley's words the other night.

There's silence for a moment as everyone processes the idea.

"Risky," Finn says. "But fresh and real. I love it. Great job, Santana."

"Oh no," Santana says. "This was all her."

Santana gestures to the junior writer sitting at the other side of the table, who looks up in surprise. Finn looks at Marley, too, and Santana knows that look in his eyes. It's the same one Will gave her all those years ago, that told her that she was on the right track, and big things were just around the corner.

She can't help the swelling of pride that wants to burst out of her chest at that moment.

–

When they get back to Santana's office, which Santana has really made _their_ office by now, Marley says, "You didn't have to do that."

"It was your idea, Marls, of course I'm going to give credit where it's due," Santana says, then pushes Marley towards Santana's seat.

Marley looks at her weirdly. Santana just smirks and lowers the blinds somewhat so no one can see in her office. When she turns back to Marley, she sways her hips for show, bending over to lean her face close to Marley's own. She delights in seeing Marley gulp and her eyes flick down to Santana's cleavage, where her top's hanging low, before looking back up at Santana, eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Mind out of the gutter, darling," Santana whispers, purposefully sultrily, before placing a chaste kiss to Marley's head and darting to the other side of the desk. She chuckles when she sees the dumbstruck look on Marley's face.

She takes a seat and looks at Marley's hands, placed on the desk. Santana bites her lip. Marley's face is flushed from what just happened, and Santana's reminded of their early days at the office when Marley was still her intern.

"You know how to type, Rose?" she asks again, jokingly, and Marley just narrows her eyes.

Santana looks at Marley's fingers again, having first hand knowledge of just how fast those little fuckers can move, and she's sure she's blushing, too, now. "I mean, I'm pretty sure with your speed, we can finish our work in a quarter of the time we used to, yes?"

Marley smiles, getting on page immediately, and starts the computer up. She sends Santana a flirty smile before focusing back on the computer, and Santana just sighs in contentment and leans back into her chair.

This will all work out just fine, then.

* * *

**Dear readers,**

**Thank you for being incredibly kind as always and going on yet another Martana adventure with me! This was just some fun I wanted to have before the season started up again, and I'm pleased you had fun with me. **

**I always say I'm done only to come back again, so this time I'll just say that I'm going to be gone for quite a while instead :) If anyone wants to keep in touch, I'll be active on my tumblr, where I go by the same name.**

**Until next time,**

**Me**

**x**

**(PS. Let's all join together in a prayer circle for some Martana in Glee100. Amen. Holla.)**


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